Tears of the perverse blade
by neozero
Summary: Sometimes love can be beautiful, and sometimes.... (YEah I finally updated it, but I warn the last part might be considered a little mature. )
1. Default Chapter

Chap 1.

_It is over. ,_ The young mage thought. The remnants of the dark warlock slowly traveled to the ground as embers off a dying flame. Their energies dissipated and the soft glows within them faded. 

_My troops, the valiant Night elves and Orcs, may find peace for this moment. It was a valiant effort, knowing only death and despair, coming to this point, but we must rest for now. We triumphed together, both through our enemies and our hatreds, and we stand now as equals. The Orcs, who have more than all of us, deserve peace, the night elves who accepted us, even after years of pithy scorning, and my people who have gained allies better than the ones we trusted in our homelands._

Satisfied Jaina softly threw herself onto the bloodstained ground and stared at the, now, setting sun. A smile slowly crept across her face. She then heard a loud cry coming from below. She lifted herself to hear the troops, who despite their casualties, were cheering at the recession of the undead. Slowly the young mage crawled through grass to a bluff that overlooked the lower encampment. Most of the buildings were either completely destroyed or on fire, while her men attempted to quiet the roaring blaze. With precious water in short supply the assortment of peasants, recruited farmers, and hired laborers used anything nonflammable to smother the inferno. About the camp were the corpses of warriors slain and the ground was saturated whit their crimson blood. Despite this dreary atmosphere Jaina saw but happy faces among the soldiers. The masses of injured and battle wearied warriors had high spirits, for they'd tasted the sweet ambrosia that had merely tempted their lips. The soldiered obtained...victory...

Even then one of her men rushed at her in a upbeat mood, despite his condition. As the tiny trickles of energy illuminated the sky major scratches and tears could be seen in his armor. Nothing was left of his right gauntlet and hand was caked in blooded dirt. Despite this he walked with no limp, instead strolling at an almost energetic pace. When he approached her he lifted his cracked helmet and revealed a young head of short, dark brown, wavy hair that stuck soaked, against his scalp. His soft, yet defined, features indicated that he was very young, and Jaina was surprised that he corps trained recruits his age. He took off his left gauntlet and wiped his forehead with the leather glove beneath. The messenger then addressed her.

" Mistress Jaina", he said, his voice in a very happy, yet fatigued tone, "without their master the demonic armies are falling back, and the scourge is losing on all fronts".

"Excellent", Jaina snapped into a more commanding mood. "Send a note to all fronts. Hold your positions, but don't advance until I get meet again with our allies".

"Yes, ma'am".

" Oh and Tialen". Her voice now changed to a lighter and more amused tone.

"Yes, ma'am?', He sounded both confused and flattered. Why would the high and most lovely Jaina Proudmoore know the name of a lowly messenger as himself?

" For now, take it easy. Today was a great victory. Perhaps we may celebrate soon. Oh and I can see your name written on your belt." She said while chuckling.

The messenger blushed. "Yes ma'am!"...


	2. Chapter 2

Chap 2  
  
Tialen ran as fast as his youthful legs could bear. He was a virile lad, but the frontline encampments were still far away. The young messenger had longed for a mount, but for a low ranking cadet, such as himself, to be granted one, would be a luxury. When the scourge appeared, he had just enlisted, but since he had been fighting constantly, his skills with the sword were refined in combat not training. He was the lucky one, for many of his close comrades had been slain before they even could master the arts of the blade. The fighting had caused Tialen to exert himself to the last of his reserves, and when the legion fell, he had nothing left. His thoughts turned to the moment when had let the endless bloodshed get to him and he'd lost all hope.  
  
It had happened at the battle they had just won. His human encampment was the first to fall. The Undead's minions had breached the outer defenses and were closing in. He had been in constant combat for days. For every minion he'd slain, two more seemed to take its place, and when they receded, the scourge only returned with even more potency. His base had then smelled of them. Some of his comrades fell because of their plague. Even the landed had been blighted and devoid of all trace of life. Around him was only the stench of death. Tialen then decided to quit. The, already defeated, cadet stayed his sword and fell. Death was not upon him, yet, his thoughts toyed him about it. They yearned for his end. How else could he have been freed from this hopeless plight? Beaten and tired, the cadet then found his gaze upon an advancing demon. Composed only of bone, it lacked a soul much less a free will. Its eyes surveyed the scene and then focused on him. The demon sought his death, nay, it sought merely death. He had doubted it capable of such complex thought. The sickly form came for him, and he knew it would surely find and kill him. Perhaps it would even feast on his remains. He was content for, finely he would find relief from the turmoil around him. As the bony monstrosity closed in, Tialen closed his eyes and accepted his fate... THWOOSH! Tialen had quickly recognized the sound of an arrow. He remembered opened his eyes to see the demon lying on the ground. It had lain as an inanimate pile of bones. Before he could have recollected is thoughts, he had felt two pairs of hands grab him abruptly. Under any other circumstance he would have met such harsh manhandling with resistance, but he had been too beaten to care. Though startled, he was still sapped of energy from the previous conflict. Though he was seemingly being dragged away from it, remembered seeing his base being razed by mindless minions. This did not soothe him. Slowly, and almost out of a yearning for death, the young warrior slipped had into unconsciousness.  
  
"Loke-fah doo riffa", were the first words he had heard, whence he had roused from his slumber. The words spoken were in a quite and circumspect tone. He had begun to gather himself and attempt to assess his surroundings. He was still weary. All he could remember were the lush, but slowly corrupting woods, and the sounds of his two captors. Since they were using stealth, and spoke in a tongue he had never heard of, Tialen had deducted they were night elves. He had pondered on his rescue, for what interest should elvens troops have in saving one not of their kind? They were an allied race, but he still sensed they thought ill of and his people.. The two sentinels did not show the courtesy, even the Orcs did, of speaking in his tongue, nor had they even revealed themselves to him. He had had to strain his ears to barely hear them, but he had not had to worry about that for much longer. One of them, seemingly out of nowhere, showed herself to him. As almost all of her kind were, she was long and elegant. Even her finely crafted equipment had been influenced by elven artistry. His thoughts should have not strayed in such direction, for she held nothing but spite in her eyes. The elven female had not kept them on him for long. Speaking in her native language, she, then, summoned her companion. The next ranger appeared in the same manner as the first, and her equipment was just as elaborately and finely crafted. It even gleamed in the forest light. Tialen remembered her visage as having a much more benevolent hue to it. One thing was to be noted about her. She was somewhat shorter than most of the sentinels. Tialen himself was of average human height, and she could have met his eye level. She then addressed him. "Rath-na, soldier, are you okay?" She had spoken in a concerned tone, but her voice retained the same level of cautiousness as before, so he knew their situation could be dire. "When we found you..."  
  
" Please, my sister this one is too burdened to converse with us, we should best leave him alone until we can find a mage willing to heal him. "The second elven warrior interrupted abruptly, Tialen was certain the this one wished to be rid of him with haste"  
  
"uughn", Tialen had been so weak that forming complete words required substantial effort, he could have admitted that the damage he had taken wasn't only physical, as well. The elf, which wish not to leave him there as feast for one of the Undead's lesser, more sickly minions, spoke. "Please, human, don't try and speak. You seemed close enough to death when we decided to drag you here. The undead are close..."  
  
The other elf interrupted yet again, "If you must explain our situation to this...man, try not to bore him. What my partner is trying to say is that we are in hiding. An Undead base now occupies the one we were trying to defend. There is no trace of it left. We are quite close to it, but they will not find us cloaked, as we are. Of course, since we can only do so much to hide you from their minions, It would be best of you to not produce any sounds."...  
  
That was all he could remember and all he wished to. For, while his survival of an undead attack was miraculous, there were other thoughts that occupied his mind. He pondered who the two fair, well only one were fair, elven women who had saved him were, especially the one who was the latter to manifest to him. There was an aura about her, which he couldn't quite touch upon. These thoughts would have to wait, however, for he could see the lights of the camp... 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAP. 3  
  
Later that night, the young mage approached the hut, where they would be meeting. There was still much to plan for. As she approached it her ears heard loud screaming, though. Startled, her pace quickened and she rushed toward the hut. As she entered she saw the large Cairne holding back the Orc warchief thrall. His eyes were filled with hatred, and his tempers flared.  
  
" You are no better than the demons we've slain!" His large Orc mouth screamed. "Just as they returned to the darkness, why don't you return to the forest so we can..."  
  
Cairne brought a large hand across the enraged warchief's mouth.  
  
"Hold your tongue young one" He was calmer but still much more roused than he normally was.  
  
"Why stop him?" Sneered Tyrande, the night elves' queen." Both of your vile races are only capable of beastly thoughts as such. It is a shame I've had to guard this land for so long, only to have it defiled!"  
  
Cairne rebutted, "My people are..."  
  
"STOP, all of you", Jaina's thoughts instantly became frustrated, and she stormed, accusingly pointing at all of the commanders. "Everyone of us has been through a lot, but we must stand together. I believed that and because of it we proved we were greater than a destroyer of worlds! How can we look at ourselves as worthy of defeating the burning legion if we will already defeat ourselves? I knew of the one who united us, Medivh. He was one of the most powerful mages... ever. He gave up his status among the Kirin Tor just to save you Orcs, and he gave his humanity to see us persevere as one. Shall his sacrifice and the sacrifice of countless azerothian lives be sullied by our pithy conflicts?" The frustrated young mage marched out abruptly. Before she got far, she felt a large hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry", the young Orc warchief said. He then got on one knee, and bowed. " My rage had been festering within me ever since I'd been a young slave and I failed to keep it in check for the moment."  
  
For a second Jaina replied by smiling, only with her eyes. Still She was hurt that they had come this far only to fall victim to their old prejudices. Yet she sucked all her frustration in and proceeded back to the hut, with the Orc warchief. They still had much to deliberate upon. As she entered the meeting place, through the massive animal skin doorway, she saw the leaders of their respective races silent. Though Cairn's ears were low and even malFurion Stormrage's head dipped a tad, the Night elf queen still held her head high, in pride. She still remained silent. Jaina and Thrall took their place among the counsel table. Jaina gave each of them a stern and approving gaze.  
  
"Do you think now we mat discuss the matters of our people, nay our future?" She said, and the meeting began... 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAP 4.

Tialen reached the frontline base. He then told the nearest commander Jaina's message, including those of celebration. An errant dwarf caught ear of their conversation and quickly spread the word.  
Within minutes there was a murmur among the warriors. The dwarf climbed one of the Orc watchtowers. The sight of a small but muscular frame trying to negotiate the poles of the construction was peculiar, indeed. When he reached the top, he shouted.

"There'll be ale for all! The scourge has been vanquished! Tonight we feast and drink! Ale for all!" Immediately there was uproar. The Orcs let out a bellow. Their deep powerful voices rattled Tialen's bones. The humans then let out a cheer and raised their arms in the air. The Dwarves were the most energetic of all. Tialen couldn't believe that, being so short and stocky, some of them could actually perform acrobatics. The elves, both night and white, were relatively calm. Both were overjoyed that they had eliminated all traces of the scourge, but they didn't display their emotions so fervently. The warriors mingled with one another, except for the elves, and ale was distributed within them. Tialen found some humor in that Orcs did not enjoy the taste of the dwarven drink. Whenever one attempted to partake of it he quickly spat it out and attempted to find water for his massive tongue. All was well in the camp, at last.

Tialen decided to find a barracks, where he could bathe and refresh himself. On his way he noticed an event stirring at a local campfire. Two, very inebriated dwarves were conversing. Their noses had already turned a shade of bright red.

" Aye, this reminds me of the victory we had on Khaz Modan". One said.

" Yes, remember the jodi we sung through the night." The other replied jollily.

" No, but let's sing it anyway". The dwarves erupted in song. Tialen doubted if they were singing any actual words, but it was a somewhat pleasant melody. Immediately an Orc approached the pair. He grinned and from his large tusked mouth came a sweet baritone voice. It harmonized, somehow with the dwarves' voices. Eventually a cabal of warriors surrounded the three. They produced stringed instruments, drums, and even Elven flutes. As the races of warriors played and sang together they sounded like the screeching of one the Undead's howling specters, but their collective melodies and harmonies eventually came together to produce one beautiful song. They played deep serenades, eloquent minuets, and powerful boleros into the night. 

Sound of the makeshift orchestra reverberated inside the barracks as Tialen sifted through his unclean hair. To him the shower felt as refreshing and soothing as being immersed in a fresh spring. He let the blood wash of his right hand to expose a half inch deep and long wound. His hand winced as the water seeped in but he knew that he should at least attempt to clean it. The blood filled the drain but quickly washed out. He was fortunate to have such a minor wound but it still pained him greatly. He turned off the feed coming from strange goblin built device, which could siphon ground water, and proceeded to towel off. Tialen opened the door to and stepped amongst the gathering of unsanitary men wishing to spruce up. The strong stench of B.O. brought to mind the phrase_ the stronger you are the stronger you smell._ The musk of the warriors could still not compare to the agony his hand caused, but it was not broken so he knew that a healer would not tend to it. Even the odd and sometimes flaky medics of the trolls had more important operations to perform, like setting and repairing limbs. Luckily the barracks had a supply of first aid supplies, and Tialen quickly found a stash outside of the bathing area. Inexperienced with bandages the young soldier barely managed to cover his hand with medical tape and gauze, but it at least stopped up the bleeding. Bandaged and bathed he then things to do amongst the camp.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAP 5

After tialen had checked in to his commander to say he was still alive and given his badly damaged armor to the blacksmith finally had free time. He was at rest, yet he felt anxiousness. He ventured into the thicket of alliance warriors at a vain attempt to mingle. The warriors around him were still caught in the thrill of their victory. They danced, conversed of their battles, and shared drinks with one another, yet he almost felt invisible amongst them. He could not share in their joy, not after seeing his friends slain in front of and coming close to accepting death himself. There was almost a sense of anomaly within him, as if his lack of delight made him as alien as juvenile duck in a pack of geese. His hand, still throbbing in pain, added to his angst.

He ventured from the encampment, intending to spend his hours at rest in deep thought. He walked a slow a steady pace. Somehow this had become unusual, for war deemed that he commit all his actions with haste. Tialen enjoyed it, though. He could find time to let his thoughts venture, unimpeded by dire situations. He thought of the moons, and how the Blue one's mellow hue seemed to compliment, perfectly, the white one's soft bathing light. Tialen's mind embraced the stars and he wondered if he could arrange their patterns. Perhaps he could arrange the stories they told as well. Stories that could let him forget where he was and even the discomfort he felt below his right thumb. The Forest, which were tenfold the lushness of Lordaeron's, could whisper to him. A myriad of sounds: footsteps of small creatures, wind rustling through the trees, the peculiar yet timely voices of the owl's lent themselves to his ear. As he listened further he heard a sound sweeter than the ambrosia enjoyed by the finest dignitaries. Tialen went in its direction, yet it was as faint and ethereal as the gossamer wings of a dragonfly. 

It stopped. Tialen was confused yet disappointed. He wished to lay eyes on what he thought possible of only divine beings. His curiosity gripped him and he still ventured in its direction. After, an hour had passed he found a small clearing, enclosed by forest on all sides. There was no evidence of any deforestation or sign of disturbance that wasn't his own. The trees themselves seemed to bend in order to let in a small glimmer of moonlight.

"Hello," he said. His tone was somewhat hushed for this place made him cautious. "I didn't mean to disturb anything which was going on here. I just wished to know what produced that sweet melody".

"They don't mind." He heard a voice out of his left ear but he could not find the source." The trees can sense the intent of those who intrude upon their lands and they find nothing but innocence in your being here. " 

Immediately A form appeared to him out of the corner of his right eye. Before he turned his full gaze to it he recognized the slender and elegant elf form. She extended her hand.

"I believe this is the custom of your people".

Tialen aptly shook it. His eyes then crept onto her face. She bore a coy smile. He was flattered that a night elf could be so courteous but he also wondered what one of them would be doing in exile. These thoughts became irrelevant as he focused more on her face. He stared into her eyes and then came to him an epiphany.

" You... you saved me earlier?!".

"Yes, would you have preferred I leave you in the path of one of those… ghoul's?", the unknown femme said jokingly. She had no Idea that she'd rescued him from his own nihilistic thoughts.

" Well I...GAH!" Tialen clutched his hand in pain".

"Are you alright?.", She reached for his hand, but he resisted while wincing. Forcefully, yet tenderly she grasped his wrists. "Please?", she asked of him. As a beast, tamed only by injury, the injured young soldier wrestled to allow himself to submit. While the appendage writhed in her grip, the unnamed archer reached into her belt and pulled out a canteen. The lid popped off and from it arose a scent strong and effervescent as if it were from the stars themselves. Just the aroma of it, playing about his nose, made Tialen feel invigorated. She carefully unwrapped the bandages and poured a moderate amount on his wound. "Tell no one of this". She said sternly.

The cut, below Tialen's thumb, seemed to wash off, almost as if it were a dirt clod. The mysterious liquid, crystal, pure, and even with a slight glow, left him feeling strengthened and renewed. Even his spirit was somewhat uplifted.

"...thankyou, but... but why?." he said in gratitude.

" It was nothing to me. Why does the remora attach to a shark without fear that the shark will eat it?", Tialen seemed both confused and dumbfounded at the odd question, and merely stared blankly. The nameless Kaltorei merely smiled and giggled," that's okay. Anyway I'm glad to help. ".

Still in awe of the random appearance of the shadowy archer Tialen could not help but inquire more.

"Well why are you here?"

"That is between me and Elune. Not that I mind being interrupted. I'm surprised you found me. but nobody, not even my Kaltorei sisters knows I'm here. Only Elune knows of my presence, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Tialen nodded," Hey, you can count on me. I'm not very popular among you. I'm beginning to wonder if most of you seem, well to look down on us. Not that you seem to be very persnickety". He said that reluctantly as not to offend her.

" Yes, my sisters, sometimes, can be...snide", At that moment tialen noticed a small wave in her tone but it probably didn't mean anything. "Well, the moon tells me my shift is due. I've enjoyed meeting you." She said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Yes, I can not express how thankful I am, yet I must know the name of someone who has done for me such a great deed."

She smiled, " I am Feorie, you?"

"Tialen Bluecrest".

"Well tialen goodbye and I hope Elune finds us again sometime." With that she vanished right in front of his eyes. Tialen was in shock. He tried to recollect what had just happened but he couldn't. All he knew that that one name would be etched on his mind.

"Goodbye.. Feorie", he softly said into the glades...

__

The night progressed and the moons found their slumber. Eventually the sun's bright gleam's crept onto the horizon and found them selves seeping into the sanctity of Thrall, Warcheif of the horde.


	6. Chapter 6

Interlude: As the night progressessed the two learned a great deal of one another. Tialen learned his mysterious rescuer's name, Feorie. He told her how he'd lost his will to fight, but he never told her that he'd yearned for death. Feorie told of her secreet sanctuary, and how not even her brethren knew of it. Elune seemed to let her reserve one every night. When they were done conversing Feorie disappeared into the forests and Tialen returned to the camp for rest. Eventually the two moons gave way to the rising sun, and its light now creeped into the window of the Orc warchief, Thrall's , private den. CHAP 6.  
  
They will come again. The sparrow told Thrall. The tiny bird then took wing. The soft patter of the sparrow's wing's were all that would be heard in Thrall's den, for he wished to contemplate thier next course of action. As the bird fluttered out of small opening in the animal skin doors it dropped a feather. It softly danced in the air, taking time to it the ground. Thrall istantly snatched it from the air, out of pure reflex. His fingers were large, but he was still was able twidle the smal feather between them. Still we wished not to draw his mind away from his main subject of thought, and he smothered the small object in his fist news of the scourge's return was most unpleasant. They were not defeated, not entirely. He knew it. The scourge had merely receded. Not only had the sparrow, that he summoned, told him, but he could smell the stench of death in close proximity. They had undone, what seemed to be, the Undead's lord, but Thrall sensed that thier was another body. It must be fueling them, and they would have to destroy it in order to purge these lands of the scourge.  
  
The undead's minions are endless. The warchief pondered..Their seems to be almost no limit to how many they can produce. We can defeat them, but for how long? Our soldiers are finite and we lose more with each battle.  
  
" Gaaaah!", The Warchief let out a bellow. He was frustrated. His den was peacful but claustrophobic, and he seeked space.  
  
Thrall parted the doorway and let the sun's light bathe him. As he recessed from his thoughts, Thrall decided to survey the camp. The sight of the encampment recovering was uplifting to him. For a while he slipped into the illusion of safety, that his soldiers' had. He saw nothing but high spirits, even beween his people and the humans. To them the undead had been vanquished and it was but a matter of time before they could find peace again. Yet this state was merely a guise, and he would soon be reminded of that. Finished with his break Thrall, again, found the solitude of his den. Before he could reconjur his thoughts he heard the sound of an intruder.  
  
The Orc was starlted. He had requested that he be left alone. Whatever thing that decided to encroach upon his private den would meet punishement. Thrall stood tall, yet still remained attentive to his surroundings. He quickly recognized the sounds to be footsteps. They were soft, and he could tell that whoever made them didn't want them to be heard. Of course it is all to easy for Orc ears to hear the slight crumpling of grass under one's foot. Instinctivily Thrall reached for his weapon, only to find none. He had given his armaments to the blacksmith. Without it Thrall felt vulnerable. He'd grown accustomed to his back being covered by the ebony tiles and without them it felt bare. Still he was an Orc and under any threat refused to show fear. His sense of danger now heightned as the entity drew closer, but this only fueled him. With an Orcish roar he charged out of his den to meet his intruder.  
  
"Your seem pleased to meet me," Jaina said calmy yet somewhat cheefully.  
  
Immediately Thrall stoped. In his paranoia he'd almost ran-through the young Mage. In battle she'd been a formidable warrior but her frail frame would have crumpled under Thrall's massive body like paper. She stood there unaware of how badly she would have been mauled. The fact she'd remain stalwart in the presence of his imposing form impressed Thrall, and her lack of burden, especially after last night's event, suggested there was at least some sliver of hope. Again she addressed him:  
  
" Are you okay Thrall? You look as though you'd seen a ghost,". In a way he had. "Has the fighting gotten to you?"  
  
"No, I'll slay a thousand demons and before my hammer will fall."  
  
"Well it seems as though we face more than a thousand Demon's, and I don't know if we'll be able to slay the next wave using our current means of combat.", Jaina lowered her head and her hood gave a small shadow to veil some of her face in darkness."I don't know how many more we'll have to lose". Thrall became anxious now. Neither he nor the human sorceress knew of any resolve to thier plight. He felt as though they were caged merely waiting to be slaughtered by ruthless montrosities. His frustation swelled within him and he punched a nerby tree with force. Though the impact had caused a massive dent into the tree, it also jarred loose the feather he'd been cluthing. As the tattered object slowly fell to the ground an idea popped into his head... 


	7. Chapter7 Ithis is a 2 part chapter

CHap. 7 I  
  
For the first time, in many a fortnight, Tialen could feel the sun's radiance without burden. He was assigned to travel to one of the Orc's farther tower outposts and report back if danger arose, but most of the warriors doubted the scourge would return soon. The morale at the encampment had awakened his strength, and he reached the cluster of towers in no time. They were simple structures, and almost resembled skeletons. Despite this, memories of charging them arose. Many a time he had had to storm an Orc base, and the bolts had flown at him like a swarm of bees. If he'd not been trained with his kite shield he would have found him self with a few extra" ventilation holes". Still they were docile now and he quickly climbed into the nearest one.  
  
Inside sat a cluster of peons playing a card game unknown to him. When he entered they looked confused by his arrival. Being Peons, of course, they had that expression permanently frozen on their faces. He did not disturb them greatly and they quickly resumed to thier card game. He still did not want to spend his time there bored, and even the company of peons was enough to satisfy him. He even found them comical at times. Tialen offered his hand.  
  
" I great you but I know not orcish," He said in what little he knew of thier tongue. He then switched to Human"Hello". Despite their limited intelligence, one of the peons grasped his hand. He did not know to shake it, instead he inspected it for food. Dismayed, that there was none he quickly threw it away.  
  
"Why you greet me with with nothin?!", the peon said, both peeved and annoyed.  
  
"I'm sorry", Tialen replied while forcing an innocent smile," Perhaps this will do." Tialen reached into his pockets and produced a small crytaline piece of quartz he'd found in his boot.  
  
"Ooh, me like. It for eating?". the peons said in astonishment. Its eyes were open wide with curiosity. The nameless peon prodceded to bite down on the rock.  
  
"No! It is not for eating", Tialen said before the peon could chip a toth on the quartz crystal. The stopped, not before he could at least taste the crytal. his face still bore an expression of disaointment.  
  
" Okay, but it still prety. Me Grug and you good human. Come play cards with us?"  
  
"Sure".  
  
The runty Orc led them into thier circle, and they attempted to teach them. Despite thier poor Human Tialen managed to learn most the game's rules. It was simple yet required some skill. He was surprised they could beat him consecutively, but he'd expected they play often. The life of a peon, when not toiling away at monantonous labor, must get very boring.  
  
As he played Tialen's thoughts still gnawed on the back of his mind, and the image of Feorie lingered in his head. When he had looked at her he was fill with curriosity, intrigue, and dumbfoundedness, like a peon staring at anything shiny , yet what had he truly known of her? Even his recollections of her were fuzzy, for when he truly had seen her, Azeroth had one of its darkest nights. All he remembered was the outline of her faced, the soft hue of her eyes, and that her gaze met his perfectly. He pondered if he was too humbled by the Night Elves to ever stare at them face to face. They were as secretive as the wild's and just as distant. Even thier leafy adornments made them even more as incarnates of nature. What could he be but a "pig-skinned" human. His home life had been simple and he would have never imagined being accepted by even one of them. Feorie was special, and knew there was alot more to her than a being a beautiful voice in the middle of nowhere. From what he'd seen of how she was treated by the other Night Elves he could have even deduced her to be somewhat of an outcast, yet she bore not a depraved thought in her head, beyond this she was sweeter than most other Sentinels. Yet this could very be the cause for her ostracism. The Sentinels were a somewhat unnaccedpting society, and one who deviated from this might be shunned. Still she had maintained a spirit stronger than anyof them, in front of all thier cynicism.  
  
"She doesn't deserve that." He said under his breath, almost unaware he was talking out loud Instantly the peons looked at him confused. Thier ears were better than he thought.  
  
"Huh?", Asked Grug.  
  
" Nothin.. Erm, go fish" luckily they had no Idea what his outburst meant. He didn't think he should contemplate, in length, about a Night Elf, and neither should anybody else know, even peons.  
  
Before he could have decided his next move, he heard a voice all too familiar.  
  
" Befriending Peons? You, humans never cease to amaze me," It insulted both sarcastic and disgusted. Tialen turned tom see the somewhat familiar expression of the more ornery of his former rescuers. Irony andshock struck him. He'd not even heard her approach and thier was not a sound inside the watchtower to impede his hearing. Still, she stood thier in an imposing stance, inspecting and look down at him. Tialen tried to smile at her but the Night Elf merely returned him a more menacing gaze.  
  
"Wh.. What are you doing here?" Tialen asked innocently enough. She hestitated, as though she thought he even deserved a reply.  
  
"If you must know, human, I am here to boost our outer defenses. My priestess knows that peons with crossbows are not suffficient deturent." Tialen knew that to be false, but another thought crossed his mind. If the snide archer who he'd first met was stationed in this tower. Then, somewhere in the other towers, must be...  
  
"Feorie!", he shouted excited. The spiteful sentinel almost rocked back, confused that he knew her name. Instantly Tailen rushed to the outer balcony and leaned against the banister to survey the other towers. Sure enough he ssaaaw the Night Elf searching the horizon for danger. She was not in the more carefree mood he had known of her, instead she assumed the typical Militaristic poise. He still recognized her as short as ever, relatively, and he could see her in full daylight, though from a distance. Though he knew he nay admit it, she was as beautiful as ever. Tialen wished to call to her, but before he could he noticed her long ears were twitching and she turned to look at the south. Immediatley he looked to the archer with him and she was agitated as well. Tialen then looked in the same direction, yet he saw and heard nothing. Even the forests surrounding them were calm, yet calm they were. They were not at peace, because the young soldier would expect the normal assortment of forest sounds to emanate. They were devoid of such, and there was a stillness in the air. The same stillness he'd experienced before the expedition fleet had entered the Maelstrom. In between his underclothes and his armor, damp pools of sweat formed. His body knew what was to come, but he wished not listen to it. It was correct, and Tialen soon saw a sea of bony white appear in the far... 


	8. chapter 7II second part, hence the two p...

Chap 7II

"Sound the alarm!" Tialen shouted into the inner cabin of the watchtower, yet from the solemn innards came no response. The peons inside were either too engrossed into their card game or they thought him to jest. The Night Elf, whose eyes looked at them with as much malice as ever, decided to take control of the situation. She then walked over to one of the slacking Orcs and brought her backhand across its face.

"You stupid peon's. Man your posts!" She said with a succinct and commanding voice. The tiny Orc's thick skin prevented him form being hurt too much, but the act reminded him he was but a mere subordinate. With their obedience instilled by the archer, the peons sprang into preparation, without question. Though Tialen clenched his fists at the site of such reckless manhandling, he had to admit that that was the only way to command the less willful Orcs.

The spiteful archer turned her head to Tialen and let her eyes fall on him accusingly. Not only was her stare cold but it belittled away his sense of self-worth. Those were eyes which saw, not an equal warrior, but an inferior grunt. Their malignant stare seemed to find his expendability out of yearning. 

"And what are you to do...human?". Tialen almost felt as if any response he would give wouldn't be good enough for her, but he brought his helmet-clad head up, and replied.

"What I will do is my duty, and at this time I must check the other Tower's." Before she could answer Tialen showed her his backside. The young swordsman then exited the watchtower, without response.

As he scrambled down the Tower's main ladder, Tialen only saw the sea of pallid ivory come closer. Able to make out the faint outlines of the mindless demons, Tialen could not deny the appearance of the scourge or its proximity. He quickly made his way, through the line of spiked-structures, till he found the one in which he had seen Feorie. As he approached it his heart began to pound. Whether it was because of the advancing army or the mysterious Sentinel he would meet again was unknown, but he could almost hear the sound reverberating inside the metal plates of his armor. He found the tower that he'd sought and quickly climbed it.

Pulling himself up the main ledge of the outer balcony of the structure he saw nothing but a rush of action. The peons were busy inside stringing cross bows, loading up on ammo, and checking the sites. The objective nature of the normally timid workers interested him, but it was not why he was there. His initial check of the outside ring and the inside cabin showed only the presence of the Green skinned workers, yet he was sure that this was the Tower she'd been in. In frustration he banged his head against the outer wall of the cabin, and his helmet made a loud thwack. A faint sound, almost resembling the creaking of an errant floorboard, fell upon his left ear. The young soldier turned his head to find an arrow fully drawn and aiming for his head.

"Why are you hear?" said the familiar voice behind the arrow. The Nigh Elf Ranger before him was not the coy nymph he'd found in the forests of Ashenvale, yet her eyes locked in on his perfectly level. Her face had the same stony expression as any other Sentinel, though it wasn't as accusing as the complexion on the other Night Elf he'd left. She remained perfectly still and the head of her arrow was turned so it would fly straight through the eye slit in his helmet. If she let go it would perfectly pierce his skull. Again she inquired,

"Why do you not perform your duty... soldier?". Almost baffled by Feorie's sudden change in character, he almost could not reply. As he stood there, with her arrow between his eyes, he felt so awkward that he was tempted to lose his balance. Tialen somehow mustered up enough strength to answer.

"A...Are you not the Elf I'd known from last night?".

:"Whether or not you find me to be familiar to you, we still have our duties to perform. If you do not perform yours and relay the messenger of the scourge's return and the fall of this outpost I...,."Feorie became feeble. Her emotion was bursting out of the seems and small splashes of it attempted to jar themselves free of her. Even her bow began to shake as she realized the ultimatum she was about to give, "I will let go."

Though shocked at the, the supposedly benevolent elf's, threat., Tialen slowly nodded. Uttering not a word he hung his head low and receded. Betrayed, and in a sense, defeated he walked to exit the tower. When placed his left foot on the upper rung of the ladder leading up the watch tower, Tialen again heard the voice of his kind archer, but it had reverted to sounding as soft as the finest silk, brushing against the back of his ear.

" and Tialen", he turned his head slightly as to be further caressed by her words, " Promise to find me again in the moons light?", He nodded as descended the tower.

__

Tialen ran and ran. By the time his ordeal had passed the scourge had come within feet of the tower. Though he escaped their onslaught he could her sounds of the outpost in defeat. The sound of claws scrapping wood and the squish of condensed body parts impacting on the structures bore tears in his heart, but he kept on. With every indication of the destruction of the outpost and the omen of the death's approach his pace quickened. Perhaps he thought that the faster he'd ran the sooner e would lay eyes upon the smile imbedded in his mind.…


	9. chapter 8 I'm not thinking of creative c...

Chapter 8.

Jaina let the energies flow through her as water through a babbling brook. They encircled and saturated every cell of her body. As she became overflowing with the mystical quantity, she could only feel more ethereal. Ancient archaic words, long since memorized, were quietly whispered from her lips. Slowly and surely her form became more transparent, and eventually light disregarded her presence entirely. The enchantment she'd placed on herself even allowed for her footsteps to be stifled.

Every mature sense in her head rued her from eavesdropping, but she still retained her youthful sense of curiosity. She tiptoed, unable to be seen even by the enchanted eye, to a private hut, where the silhouettes of Tyrande and malFurion stood in embrace. It was well concealed and the inhabitants of the Night Elf base did not go near it, as not to disturb the couple. Though they were surrounded by a tarp it did not do much to hide them. Anyone able to lightly press their ear against the material could hear their hush voices, and the son, now beginning its decent, projected their fuzzy but distinct shadows on the opposite wall. .

"...And what of the third guard? I thought that your sentinels' had taken little loses." Spoke malFurion, his deep voice sounding as if it had known a thousand years and not aged one. 

"I'm sorry, love, but that is what I merely told our allies. In truth many have been slain and injured. Only eight of our twenty troops now remain.", In her words Jaina heard something never before manifest in the priestess's voice...fear. 

" Dearest, I assure you that we shall not have to fight any longer".

"But, it isn't just that. I feel...I feel as though I'm losing it. Though my ability haven't deteriorated, I feel less in tune with them. Furion... I'm becoming weaker".

"These power's we have are merely to protect Asheville, and we've already managed to remove the most major threat. The sands of time will erode our abilities but we shall not need them...", Jaina could see Furion's large hand gently stroke the outline of Tyrande's face. "Especially as long as I have you". The two silhouettes merged. 

Before long Jaina noticed Thrall approaching. While not sure why he sought the audience of the two, she was sure it would directly affect their situation, so she had to listen. When Thrall reached the tent he came precariously close to her. Jaina had to pull her blue cape, embroidered with symbols and insignia of a former student of the Kirin Tor, out of the way, so he wouldn't trip. It almost seemed as if he was aware of her presence, but that was impossible. Nothing had been able to sense the spell she had crafted after hours of countless study. He entered the vacinity of the lovers.

Immediately they let go of each other. Jaina had observed that Tyrande and Furion kept their relationship confidential. Tyrande shed her cocoon of fairness and assumed into her normal ornery attitude..

"And what is it that you need?" she snapped.

"I seek nothing more than your attention.", spoke Thrall's gruff yet compassionate voice. 

"You do realize we were preoc..." The young mage saw Furion graciously push Tyrande aside and whisper, softly, something in her ear. Tyrande abated and Furion addressed the Warcheif.

"Though you have interrupted us I urge you to speak, but I will only listen to matters of utmost importance." 

Thrall's shadow nodded, "It has come to my attention that, while our campaign has been successful, we have not maintained our Ideal numbers...".

Tyrande let go of herself and interrupted." Yes, but we are defeating the enemy. Furion please it is not worth our time to listen to him.".

"Well I do agree with Thrall so far. I myself have seen too many good druids die. I believe if Thrall has an Idea he should propose it.. Thrall continue".

"I merely request that we not combine our forces but our techniques. We have fought alongside but not _together_ and look at the toll it has taken on us. My men..."

"Your men are but a shadow of the green sea of destruction they used to be. I've heard the tales, how you used to be feared as a plague, how your enemies cowered in fear of this " horde of destruction" and even before then when you had your own planet. Do not think that because I don't like you that I don't know you. My warriors have seen and conquered enemies far greater than the scourge. To us they are pathetic. We use proven effective tactics and it shall be a cold day before we share the secrets given to us by Ysera." 

Tyrande's attack was viscous but Jaina saw no sign of Thrall's head lowering, then again she could only see faint shadows. He still replied, and with the same calm controlled tone he normally had.

"Are we truly different, then?"

"Can we be any more dissimilar. Do I need to point out the obvious or are you colorblind, like dogs?"

"But we both ask for nature's guidance. You practically have let yourselves be assimilated into the beautiful graces of the elemental spirits, and we ask, as their servants, their assistance. Even our lowly peons pledge to replant every tree they cut down in times of war.".

"How could an Orc possibly have a relationship with nature? You are alien to this world. The only tales the forests have told me are of ugly encroachers, who cut and burn forest, and treat nature as a mere tool for their warmongering.".

Thrall could not fine rebuttal for this, instead he uttered a single succinct phrase, "Fine."

The large Orc motioned for them to follow him, and led the two out of the tent. Immediately he strode to a large clearing, and began to mutter some inaudible Orcish. For a while nothing happened, and Tyrande seemed unconvinced and cynical.

But before she open her mouth to continue harassing the chieftain, a small bluebird landed on Thrall's right gauntlet. In five seconds another Bird landed next to him. This one was brown. A pair of squirrels began chasing themselves around the large Orc. A lock of crows flew onto the ground in front of him. A family of Fox settled by his left boot and the young ones rested on it. Even an Owl perched on Thrall's head and looked directly at Tyrande. Before long, masses of forest creatures came to Thrall. Thrall seemed, less an Orc, but now a cocktail of woodland wildlife. Every species of bird and rodent rested about him, and in perfect contentment. A microcosm of a perfect harmonized world was strewn about the Warcheif. Triumphantly he stared at Tyrande, and at that moment all the animals fled back to the forest. The only one witch remained was the small bluebird, which he petted in his great hands. 

"Perhaps you do not listen close enough. "Thrall lifted his hand and the bluebird took flight.

Tyrande's mouth seemed as though it would fall off and Furion, who watched silently in awe, looked very pleased. Jaina, who was still crouching, invisible, beside the tent, was amazed at the powers of a Shaman. Thrall had proven, beyond a doubt he was intertwined with nature. 

Tyrande, still aghast at the spectacle, attempted to choke out a response, but, before she could speak, a fatigued, armor clad human threw himself in front of them. Gasping for air he managed to huff out a broken message.

"Outpost... number eight... ha... fallen.". He said before attempting to clutch his heart underneath the silver laden breastplate.

To Thrall, Furion, and Tyrande's surprise Jaina instantly became visible and aided the collapsed soldier. 

"Please, come help him,". She begged the confused trio. A tug was felt on her sleeve and she saw the messenger attempting to tell her something. Jaina then pressed her ear against the slit in his helmet. Before fainting he managed to whisper three words.

"scourge has... returned".


	10. Chapter 9

Chap 9.

Jaina surveyed the ranks of her men. The stew of human warriors, charged from their previous defeat, easily took up their blades to prepare for combat. They stood ready, in front of the barricade of defensive structures that would provide cover. Along the line of the three armies, her's stood on the left flank, the center of the line was defended by the Orcs, and the Night Elves took the right flank, ready to fire a barrage at anyone who would attempt to pass. In front lines of her force gleamed the kite shields of the 70th-121st Lordareon Infantry, each one commanded by a Knight of the Holy Hand. Behind them a secondary line of dwarven riflemen cleaned and loaded their guns. Further, covering the rear, were the inhabitants of Quel'thalas, the Elves. Even now keeping to themselves, the ranks of the combat-trained spellcasters sat, quietly meditating and channeling the chaotic and serene forces through them. Not to be seen yet were the Aerie dwarves, who rode their wild and untamed mounts with trust and compassion. Rolf Emmerstone, commanding Mountain Dwarvesmen, had told her earlier that his Aerie companions would show up in due time and she trusted him enough to believe.

In the presence of the weakened, but still massive, Alliance Exhibition Army she fell almost as a single ant. All of her troops could see the approaching white swarm, distant on the horizon, and beckoned for its approach. Even within the span of two days, their wounds had been healed and they sought revenge for the spilled blood of their comrades. She could see it in their eyes. They may have faced the same plight as a pack of wolves cornered, with no escape, but they looked at the oncoming ivory tide viscously. How could she, a shy passive bookworm, compare with the bloodthirsty warriors. To her combat was a sandstorm of hysteria and bloodshed, and she truly loathed it. About to be cast within the thicket of it, she could fill her body quiver. 

The young mage only stared down the face of battle for the future of, not merely Lordareon and its allies, but Azeroth itself, yet it was not what drove her. She reached into her back pockets and pulled out a small, slim, silver case with clasps on one hinge. Quickly she undid the silver casing and looked what had reminded her why she fought so hard. Merely being able to gaze upon the contents infused her with life. For a short period she stood there staring at its contents. The yearnings to be free and be done with this conflict returned and she would face the endless waves of mindless minions with renewed strength. Before she became too engrossed She heard a gruff but polite voice summoning her. The silver packet was returned to her pockets and she turned to face he who addressed her.

Barin, the burly but righteous High Paladin stood before her at perfect attention, with his mighty maul at his side. His body clad in chain mail, encased in heavy plated armor, and draped with the religious cloths of the devout follower of the light stood perfectly straight and upright. The heavily bearded face of his did not twitch and awaited her response Though still awkward with military traditions and practices she remembered to return salute and indicate him to be at ease. He delivered his report.

"Sir... Ahem ma'am, all remaining troops have been accounted for, most of the injured have been revitalized to an apt fighting condition and every regiment now waits.", he spoke clearly and sternly," We are ready ma'am. ".

"Understood, Barin. I will arrive without hesitance. Dismissed".

At the order the high paladin resumed barking out orders and readying the men for melee. 

That moment Jaina found the trite epiphany she always came to before every battle. On her back were those who would follow her, even to death. On her right shoulder were allies who would fight with her as true brethren, even if there were some minor clashes. On her left shoulder could be felt the spirits of those who gave their lives, in resistance or not. Before her stood a foe that would fight without constraint, and in her heart was the contents of a tiny silver box which she would never lose. Now she would have only to wait...


	11. Chapter 10 Battle Time!

Chap 10.

Feorie spat out blood. She had sustained a mere cut on her inner lip, but the wound caused the thick substance to pool in her mouth. Roused by almost choking on it, she then had to hack the thick caret substance out to prevent from being suffocated. After being knocked unconscious Feorie awoke only to find a large truss, from the tower's rubble, pressed against her abdomen. With the large plank constricting her, she struggled to breathe. The wooden beam only pressed harder on her chest. Every breath she took seemed to take more and more effort. Her hands, callused from shooting hundreds of arrows, dug into the grain. She used all of her might to push the massive truss of off her. Droplets of sweat formed on her forehead as she strained. As unforgiving and stubborn as it was, the plank began to inch off. 

Like a chick, struggling to be free of its shell, Feorie writhed out of her entombment, and sprawled out on the ground. For a moment, except for the hard breathing, her body lay as motionless as the corpses surrounding her. She was in so much pain. No bones were broken but her left leg had been severely lacerated. A crimson trail had been left from the place she'd crawled out. Showing signs of agony on her face, she reached into her pouch, and pulled out the canteen. The injured archer drank, not in moderation, but quantity, emptying the bladder. 

She absorbed the sacred waters, becoming revitalized and refreshed. Her body, as helpless as a whale stranded on a beach, became agile and capable. The deep cuts on her thigh, while not instantaneously disappearing, seemed to cauterize and the bleeding stopped. 

The archer exhaled out of relief, but she was still the only survivor of the attack. The scene around her looked more like a junkyard than an outpost, except for the bodies. The towers, which had been a fury of arrows and bolts, now had been reduced to mere rubble. Around them the corpses of Peons lay squashed, like green insects. Even more shocking were the Elven bodies, their faces permanently marked with an expression of solemn acceptance of death. In the presence of such destruction, Feorie lowered her head. She showed sorrow for the deaths that had occurred, remembering nothing but slaughter. In mourning she took a knee, unclasped one of her earrings, stuck an arrow in the ground, and made a small memorial.

In quiet eulogy she uttered,

"lentoos tiffah dominc tal. Ner hul elune-do rak tas." (A short prayer meaning "their soul's are now free. Let Elune guide them to the peace they fought for). A tear seeped from her eye, but, before she let it trickle down her cheek, she wiped it off her face.

Sucking in her grief, she turned her back to burning remains of the out post, and followed the footsteps of the army that almost killed her. Her pace quickened and she ran with the vigor of a gazelle. At her speed she could reach the camp within the hour, but her sensitive ears could hear the faint vibrations of battle already. 

Realizing that the woods would provide a short cut for her she turned into the glades. Feorie felt as if she was not running of her own power as she entered the forests. While the trees bent ever so slightly to show her the correct path she still sensed she was pulled towards the battle. Time passed quickly until she had been running for 45 minutes, but fatigue did not faze her body. Already the clashing of metal and armor could be heard loudly, even for Elven ears. Trees impeded her view but she was close, real close. The tactful Night Elf knew she was flanking the enemy, so she used a trick. In a demonstration of agility she jumped. Caught a nearby branch and flipped her self on top to land with perfect balance. From this vantage point the fight could be seen occurring at the edge of the forest, mere feet away form her. She needed to be closer to attempt what she planned, so again she pivoted toward a neighboring tree and jumped, again, to a branch that would support her weight. 

She could see the battle in full view, and it was not as she had expected. The tight formations were broken and decentralized. The alliance army fought with no plan or strategy whatsoever, and appeared to be more of an amorphous blob. Even the different races had disassembled their lines. Many warriors seemed lost. Without their commanding officers, they could not coordinate their attack. The fighting had to have lasted at least an hour and with every minute the alliance forces became more awry. 

The scourge seemed much more in control. Their forces were a third the size of the alliance army but they fought with the harmony of a well-trained orchestra. In front the ivory ghouls, without thought or inhibition slashed away at the defending troops. Amidst every indiscriminate pack of ghouls a large and even more hideous monstrosity assaulted allied forces. They seemed not as if they had been created but _sewn. _Many body parts hung off an amalgamation of flesh, affixed only by stitching. The beasts carried large meat cleavers and hooks, and with the jagged and rusty instruments they swung through the ranks toppling many at a time. 

If a unit managed to fend of the crazed ghouls and bring down the putrid abominations they would only be met with a barrage of muculent corrosive goo, spat from the mouth's of giant spider like creatures. An entire regiment of trolls met this fate, and became trapped, with the glutinous substances, as the beasts they hunted. The normally shifty trolls now cried out, helplessly, for their lives. The vain cries were silenced when the Nerubian creatures bared their fangs and impaled the them. 

It seemed as though the Undead forces were actually _winning. _Slowly and surely the lines pushed closer to the base, as the siege units hurled piles of condensed flesh at it. Though the alliance forces were suffering heavy loses, Feorie looked more impelled than ever. She balanced on the branch in a prone, position, ready to jump in the fray when the moment arose. She waited, carefully picking out the right moment, then an innate sense within her clicked. Running full speed, ready to take flight, she leapt off the branch as if it were a springboard, and plunged into the chaos. 

An unsuspecting a Nerubian pawn found its head to be Feorie's soft landing point. It flattened under the force of her fall, yet she had dismounted perfectly. Her long eleven ears twitched to the sound of an attacker behind her. With one smooth motion, she pivoted 180 degrees, unsheathed an arrow, and landed a shot right in the Ghoul's forehead. The creature, which used to be charging, stumbled and fell on its back. Another arrow cut of its spine from the rest of its body and it instaneously fell as a pile of bones. Impressed by the spectacle, a dryad formation galloped next to her. One of them came close and spoke in admiration,

" Exemplary job sist…" her pause was enough to let a ghoul headbutt her, knocking the centaur female of her four legs. In unison the rest if the pack flung poisoned spears the ghoul, ripping it apart. They then continued their attack, but Feorie broke away, moving laterally across the battlefield.

She was still, now almost physically, drawn to some point on the field, as if Elune was moving her herself. She knew she had to fight but the beckoning was so strong she merely darted around the battle field, dodging any possible harm. It was almost as if there was a tether attached to her, and the only way to stop it from yanking her was to run in the direction it was pulling. It then stopped. Wondering why she felt such an impulse her head scanned the carnage around her. It was not long before she found an anomaly in the bedlam.

A nerubian grabbed a human foot soldier in its forward pincer, and attempted to squeeze the life out of it. The swordsman's cries could be heard, as his armor bent under the creature's vice. Realizing that she was the only one who could save him she unsheathed her last three arrows, one for each finger, and dexterously fired them.

**************************************************************************************

Tialen thought his screams, which echoed inside his helmet, would be his last. His chest became increasingly more constricted as the spider's grip tightened. Thinking the end to be near he exhaled, expecting never to taste air again…

But the air returned to fill his lungs, and the pincers loosened their grip. Almost confused the inevitable did not occur he was quick to react. His sword had fallen out of his hand but he had held tightly to his shield. With all of his might he bashed the head of the Crypt fiend with it. Stunned by the bludgeoning the massive spider let go entirely. The young soldier scrambled toward his sword, and brandished it , yet again, ready to face the monster. It reared its head and from it spat a large wad of silk at him, but he dodged it while strafing and closing in on it. Quickly leaning right to avoid a swipe of the Nerubian Tialen stabbed it in the thorax. With his sword deep into the beast he ran along the side of it, making a large gash. It let out a weird screech in pain as its internals burst out of it. 

Having already slain the vile creature, Tialen sought to find out who was his savior. The slits in his helmet provided little peripheral vision so he threw it off, exposing his brown hair, glistening with sweat, to the sun. Around him the wanton battle raged on, but he searched anyway. He thought that it was a random archer, but he soon was proved wrong as his eyes found a pair just as amazed, excited, and level, as his.

"No, it can't be you", he yelled in disbelief, running to Feorie. As he came close to her he felt compelled to almost hug her, but he knew he should not show such affection in the midst of combat. 

"Disbeleif strikes me as well I thought I'd never see you again. ", she replayed attempting to assuage his worry.

"Well I think we.."

"LOOKOUT!", before he could turn around a ghoul clawed him in his back armor, almost digging to the flesh. In reaction Feorie unsheathed her Elven sword and sliced off two of its limbs. 

"Are you okay", she said as soothingly as she could while attempting to be heard. 

"Yea it wasn't deep, I'm fine for now"

"You'd better be, we're not through this yet", she said concerned and rightly so. When they paused to converse a pack of Ghouls managed to box them in. Soon they had their backs pressed against one another, surrounded by the ravenous corrupted monsters. Tialen could feel the pulse within her. She was charged to fight, and the less chance they had to survive the more viscous she felt. Before they engaged the demons she remarked,

" You, ready?"

"No"

"Good, don't go dying on m…", sensing the two would attack, the pack of ghouls struck first. Feorie immediately bounded out of the way, and Tialen brought his shield up, returning with a slash that fell diagonally on the attacking fiend directly in front of him. There were five around him now. He charged the first one, but, using a trick he learned, reared back right before he clashed into it. The demon lost its balance, expecting a blow, and Tialen used the split second to land a punishing swipe right on top of it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another white blur. With reflexes sharpened to the point he parried with his sword, cutting through the second creature's hand. The talon he severed off bounced on the field, and Tialen proceeded to land a horizontal slash, leaving the torso and the lower half of the body in two pieces. Before they fell to the ground the third ghoul leapt onto Tialen's back, ready to hack away at his already damaged armor. Remembering a trick from a street fight he once got into, the young warrior rode with the creature's energy, and toppled himself over. He landed with an immense force, slamming the ghoul under his body weight. The lower vertebrate shattered under the sudden instance of pressure. Bruising himself from the last move the young warrior found the final two circling around him. Their motions confused him, and he tried to find a pattern to their movement. Without warning on of them pounced on him in a leap slash. In reaction Tialen met the attack with his shield, and, attempting to remember the timing, slashed behind him where the other Ghoul_ should_ have been. Luckily his sword cleaved the fleshless body of the minion, and it fell, lifeless. The final Ghoul, which had unsuccessfully tried to assault him before, laid off balance in front of him. Recognizing the opportunity he had, Tialen discarded his shield, and, gripping his sword in two hands, chopped at demon as if it were a log. In one swipe the Ghoul was left in two halves.

Almost satisfied with the bones around him he found his shield and checked about to find Feorie. Expecting her to still be fighting, he was amaze to find her wearied but triumphant above a pile larger than his. 

" What took you so long?", she said boastfully, but playfully.

Tialen felt stupefied and bashful. She truly was an exemplary warrior, yet she did not make him feel inferior. Seeing her standing there, brandishing her ornate Elven sword, made him realize he had the audience of the true spirit of a warrior.

His thought would have to cease, for he noticed something else about the scene around him. It was too quiet. Around them the battle continued as a raging sea, but, in the proximity of the two, the savage remorseless waters of battle receded. No scourge units came close to them and any alliance fighters were either engaged in combat or lie as corpses. Turning to Feorie for any answer he found her looking in a direction completely still with a blank and stern expression engraved on her face. Looking in the same way he saw and heard nothing. It was not until the boding sound of hooves, could touched his ears that he realized what irked her.

From the discord emerged a figure bathed in tenebrosity. It appeared human, but from it came an aura that seemed to grab at Tialen's soul, forcing it to join its endless ranks of the damned. Skulls and thorns adorned its armor, and the Death knight rode a spectral steed, which seemed to have been born of the chaos yet still made manifest. With eyes that seemed to nay be the aforementioned, but chasms, devoid of any feeling, he stared at him. His words slithered as serpents that crawled into his ears and uttered reprobate whispers. 

"Ah, I see you seem to be formidable opponents for the scourge, but it will not be long before your souls are entrapped within our ranks."

Feorie had to reply, "Fallen Knight! If you wish to have my soul then you will have to grasp it as it leaves my cold dead body!".

"That's the Idea", replied the dark human. With that statement he lifted his sword and focused his consumptive powers. An orb of dark energy formed at the tip and hurled itself right at the defending Night Elf. 

"FEORIE NO!" yelled Tialen as he ran in front of her, and barely managed to catch the blast with his shield. It went flying, and Tialen was pushed back, forced into the ground. As he lifted his head he saw only the Death Knight. Feorie's form didn't appear anywhere in his view.

__

Good, I hope she is not here to die like this. He thought to himself. Tired of the constant fighting he got up and faced the corrupt horseman. He stared at him, eyes locked and the two voids, and stretched out his arm. His palm turned up and signaled for the Death Knight to come. Complying he raised his sword and hurled another Death Coil.

Time seemed to slow down, as the ball closed in. It seemed every time that death was imminent, something would intervene, as if he was somehow supposed to live. This moment, to him, seemed to be the point, and it yielded him to be a mere casualty of battle. The future, which had seemed to be a doorway leading out of a dismal life, was now shut leaving him out in the cold. The only warmth he had located, which would have given him the strength to finally reach that entrance, could not be found. Now his future only seemed to be the lurid sphere that approached like the ringing of an Iron bell. With his last thought drifting away the Death Coil met him.

Its dark energies coursed through his body. He tried to scream but the torment was so great he could not bring himself to form words. He fell to the ground, convulsing as the evil powers surged through him. 

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Yelled Feorie from behind the Death Knight. Though Tialen had thought she'd fled, the ranger merely used her Night Elf stealth to sneak attack the mounted menace. Before the Death Knight could react, Feorie lurched forward at him. Charged with rage she gripped her sword with two hands and landed a leap slash on an exposed part of his skull-clad armor, between the shoulder pad and the breastplate. She shoved the blade in so hard that the majority of it poked through the other side. With his appendage ran-through the Death knight fell off his steed at writhed in pain. 

At the sound of her scream a group of mounted Orcs cut through the ranks, using their large blades like machetes. They immediately saw the fallen Death Knight, pinned to the ground with the sword still stuck in him. The Raiders through their weighted nets over him preventing any more escape. Vexed at his injury and capture the Death Knight passed out. 

Abruptly the Undead army fell apart. The various units ceased fighting in unison and were engulfed by the alliance forces. Some, so confused without their master, even began attacking their own warriors. It was not soon before the alliance prevailed, but the victory did not come without consequences 

Piles of corpses both Orc, Human, and Night Elf. Lay among the battlefield. They had been reduced to half of their original numbers. A cry could not be heard for in a sense the costs were so taxing it did not merit a success. A gray cloud hung over the Orcs, Humans, and Night Elves as they attempted to assess their dead and wounded.

Feorie ran toward Tialen, who was being sapped of life by the second. Even through his armor she could feel the dark energies which clumped within him. As she threw herself on him she sobbed so much she could fill large basins. Not in a hundred, not in a thousand, and not in her entire life had she ever cried in such lament, and the tears stung her soft face. Hearing him gasp for breath made her emotions pour out, like a failing dam. As the medics came out she lay weeping with her cheek glued to his breastplate.

The afternoon sun, which orange rays caused the blood to shimmer, could not seem any more menacing.

****

End CHAP 10

****

Discusion:

Whoa that was a long one. Okay this seems too climactic so I might change it. If you think I should please say so since there will be a couple more chapters, and at least one more major battle to go.

Also if it seems too repetitive in some places I'd like to have some suggestions

Neozero out.


	12. chapter 11

Chap 11.

A putrid cloud wafted at Jaina's senses. She felt it necessary to cover her face or fall due the disgusting smells which taunted her nose. Inside the Arcane Sanctum, the infirmary was full to the brim of injured and dying soldiers. The congestion was so high that bodies seemed to be packed as corpses. As she entered she was surrounded with a dismal scene where the faces of the fallen warriors seemed pallid and ghastly, like the grim spirits of Hades. Some moaned at her reaching like lame beggars, while others merely stared into space, their cadaverous expressions making the squeamish young mage wonder if they had already passed. 

She knew that she had to stand tall and proud for them though. On the outside she was a symbol of hope. Her lovely image, highlighted by golden locks and effervescent sapphire blue eyes, caused and aura among the now frail men, even if on the inside she felt as sick as they were. A stone and impermeable skin covered her, which to them seemed silken, as she walked down the gauntlet of haggard faces searching for the bed she sought.

It was the only bed veiled from outside lookers, and inside it was the most badly injured soldier of them all. Jaina closed the white sheet around the back of her and observed the crippled young man. He'd sustained a mere modicum of superficial cuts and scrapes, but the severity of the poor man's ailment was not physical, for his body lay rigid, not limp like the others, almost as if it had been petrified. Whenever the light imbued Elven healer beside him touched the poor young man's skin he showed no reactions, as if stimuli meant nothing to him.

The most terrifying sight came when she saw his face. Eyes that darted about, frightened at unseen entities, were behind expressions twitching, slightly but controllably, in a crazed manner. Looking at him, Jaina sensed a detachment, but he did not seem as much oblivious as he did engaged. The burden expressed from the young martyr indicated some sort of conflict within, as if he was wrestling with an unknown presence inside. At the same time he looked tortured. Below his forehead, which was flushed and drenched in sweat, the tiny muscles around his eyes and mouth tightened, as if his innards were slowly being ripped from one another. 

Horrified Jaina cupped her hand over the frightened scowl she gave. Using all of her will to stay at the tormented footman's side, she forced herself to inquire the Elven medic beside the bed of the soldier's condition.

"Excuse me", she asked, her voiced becoming timid with her sorrow for the stricken soldier," but I must ask of this brave man's condition".

The priest slowly turned his head to her, possibly twice as empathetic as she, but he did not lose focus of him. As his hands slowly ran over the entirety of the cursed footman's body, channeling enough holy energy into him to make the priest's eyes glow like blue fire, he turned his head to reply. By sorrowful expression he wore and his weak stuttering tone Jaina could already tell that the young footman's situation was more than dire.

"I'm sorry, Miss Proudmoore but I'm afraid he won't make it".

Though almost expecting news of condemnation Jaina still was shocked. As she held back the tears she inquired again.

" Do you mean he shall…die?"

The Priest slowly stared at the ground in a humble manner. He cleared his, already dry, throat as he told her something that he had to strain to say.

"No, in fact he won't die. Miss Jaina I… I feel something sinister lurking inside this man, but this is not the first time I've seen this happen. His mind is locked in a sort of iron maiden by this dark force, and every second we leave him like this it will close tighter and tighter. When his soul is shut beyond the point which we will be able to reach he will become…one of the Undead!"

Upon hearing the prognosis Jaina's face shattered. She couldn't bear a response, and at the same time the Infirmary felt really claustrophobic. Before the priest could attempt to say anything else she ran out of the ward in front of all the tattered men…

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

As here legs pumped hard, to get away from that horrid place, Jaina clutched her blonde locks and pulled them over her face, like she did as a little girl. She wanted to veil her rosy skin, covered in rivers of tear, from the outside world and go away to a sanctuary, away from prying eyes. 

All around her the sounds of confused and astonished soldiers, glancing at the sight of their broken leader, seeped in through the strands of hair stretched tight over her ears, and they made a fissure inside her. The more she ran in disarray the wider it became. Though she could not see them, their taunting faces and comments were alive in her mind. She imagined the world outside her gilded guise as being nothing but a sea of lost faith. The image of the strong young mage who would lead them now would be pervaded by this scene of a frightened immature school girl cast into a man's battle. 

The base gained a stench. Foul odors, which she'd once been callous to, now permeated her senses. Sweat, steel, and blood all took a nebulous form that seemed not to irk but _rue _her, and the more she ran the less she felt saturated by them. Running harder and harder Jaina almost felt exhorted by the funk to leave. 

It was not until she had found herself well clear of the camp that the air could be free from its impurities. The sounds, sights, and smells of that dastardly war were behind her now. Her setting didn't change anything, for her heart now bore the weight of all the crushed expectations of every soldier she'd just wait. No matter how far she could run it would always be there, as irritating as a mosquito biting at the nape of her neck.

By now she'd wandered to a cliff, and night was quickly overtaking the sky. With the nocturnal coldness biting at her she rolled into a ball, using her cape as a pillow, and cried herself to sleep. 

The last thing she saw before dozing off was the red arc of the sun slowly slipping into the horizon…

*^*^*

Discussion.

Thanks for every review. I truly cherish any and all feedback that I receive.

Nothin' about the story this time, Just saying' that I have exams and work so I won't update in at least a week. In other words the story will be updated with the same randomness as it was before. Jeese I didn't realize this was such a huge undertaking. I'm practically writing a friggin' novel!

I will tell you one thing though…

In the chapter after the next…

I'll finally be getting' into the main purpose of the entire story, and something I think everyone wants to see…

So bear with me while I continue the saga…

Neozero/Art…out.

P.S. Also to foreshadow the story I'll give you a special segment of an interlude I considered between this chapter and the one before it (chapter 10.). 

Here it is: 

__

*interlude* : The armies spent the night recuperating from the taxing fight. When the sun arose again it gleamed on a tiny section of forest, in small clearing, where the trees bent away ever so slightly, that had been salted and in which no vegetation grew.

I decided not to include it because this chapter occurs in the same day that the battle did, and the interlude says that the day had already passed, hence totally screwing up the plot line.

It does give a hint at one of the characters…though. 


	13. chapter 12

12.

_Tialen's body knew no constraints, for it seemed as though the world around had been besieged by darkness. As far as he could see there was but nothing. A nonentity enwrapped him, yet his presence remained. All of his appendages could move freely, but he was plunging eternally into an empty void. While he could have flailed erratically, he instead had a very grim frightening thought. What if he was stuck here, damned to limbo? The notion that it was dream floated by him, but he dismissed it, thinking that his senses were too acute for him to be in a fabrication. Tialen became very afraid. The abyss seemed to constrict him, and even though he attempted to scream, silence choked him._

Through the stifling nothingness a voice was heard, not from his ears but from every feasible direction, including within.

"Yes, I see my grasp frightens you…good".

Scared and enraged Tialen shouted words that never befell his ear.

"Why are you doing this to me."

"Because you fell to me. And in proving yourself to be…weak, you've enthralled yourself to me."

"What?! How could I ever be a slave?!"

"Your soul is mine. I could do with it and that pathetic vessel of yours what I please, and that could include ripping your very being apart."

" Then why do you not kill me now? Death as always been my one true escape." Tialen said, again resuming his submissive attitude.

"Hehe…It is more fun to watch you suffer…for you're too worth less to merit my time." With that, Tialen could feel even more emptiness, as if whatever or whoever had spoke to him ceased to have an audience. It almost was disheartening being rejected, but a new voice filled the endless cavern. It sounded much more tangible and it even had a funny accent.

"Kay'mon….KAY'mon". It said ever growing louder. As it approached him the maw he was wrapped in seemed to lighten. 

"KAY'MON!" Had it have gotten any louder it would have reverberated inside the lack of space, yet it caused the darkness he was incased in to lift…

SMACK!

Tialen felt a large three fingered hand come across his chin. Though done quite abruptly, he had been Jarred from his constricting dream. Just as reality hit him, a sudden rush of clammy, humid, dank air, reeking of disease seeped into his senses. He awoke, covered in sweat, in the presence of a two medics. One was a dowdily dressed troll, who now was pointing and laughing at his colleague, while the other was a quiet Elf. The troll, despite the inappropriateness, was gloating.

"ha HA!. You be seeing now dat all dat prayin' be doin'nutin? It be takin afewa ma' pations to revive dis' human heeyah. Now dat I be dun chasin de spirits away from heem I gots me odas to tend to". 

With that the troll took his concoctions and enchants and slipped through the veil surrounding Tialen. The lanky wiry shadow of the troll could still be seen hobbling about. During this time the Elven healer stood, obviously irked, but silent, with his teeth grinding. Tialen could tell that he was relieved to be free of the obnoxious troll, but he was still inclined to minister his patient. As professionally, yet caring, as possible the Elf placed a damp washcloth on Tialen's sweaty forehead.

"Are you okay?" He inquired condescendingly but still acting according to procedure. 

"I'm exhausted, hot, and parched. Otherwise I'm fine", Tialen spoke the truth. He felt no pain, only fatigue. It wasn't even hard for him to get up and take a look around, not that there was much to see. A white veil surrounded him and he could only see blurry silhouettes through it. The only other person with him was the Priest who was surprised, almost alarmed at his good health.

"Please try not to move, my child.", the healer said, worried about his patient. 

"No really I'm fine. Whatever you did to me really did the trick. I don't even remember how I was injured."

"You weren't injured, only corrupted. They rushed you here in a demonically infested state, something I've only witnessed in those that had been infused with enough dark energy to drive them mad but not kill them. The only one who could save you was…"

At that moment the aged troll poked his pointy-head through the sheets. 

"Me be almost forgetin. If you take dis' heeyah then you be back on ya feet in no time."

With that he shoved a leathery hand, that was enclosed around a corked vile, through the veil. It contained a concoction that seemed unidentifiable. Still he had seen those odd trolls in their practice, healing hundreds of men at once, so he trusted any of the exotic elixirs they were able to mix. His strength returned to him as he popped the cork and gulped down the potion.

Feeling invigorated Tialen roused from his bed, but he forgot about the sheets surrounding him and aptly tripped, becoming entangled. Still somewhat addled he fell in the mess of cloth.

"By the light are you okay?", asked the priest as he ran by his side. 

"I'm okay. I only hurt my pride." He said while struggling. "May I ask you a question?"

"Okay"

" How long was I out?"

" You were entranced for a couple of hours. It's already 2 hours past sunset, but I think you…"

"Okay thanks." He said, quickly bolting for the door. He had hated being cooped up in there, it being musky and such. It had also seemed that the eyes of all the other soldiers were watching him, like silent apparitions. As he closed his eyes to feel the cool night air, he almost felt as if it that infirmary had smothered him.

He opened his eyes to look outward onto the beaten camp, but it seemed to him that they were not fairing much better. While most of the structures were intact, many of the outer barricades were ablaze, just like before. The camp's laborers attempted to service the failing buildings and put out the fires, just like before. Around he saw numerous soldiers in anguish over the death of a comrade, the loss of a limb, or the shock of almost being decimated, just like before. Worst of all, more smiting than any physical damage, the same despair struck the camp, just as it did when they were trapped at the top of the world, for this time there was no fruit reaped from all the death. They had abated the scourge, and been proven its ferocity had not been curtailed. This wasn't a decisive victory, merely delay of the inevitable. While the beaten men trudged around with their heads' held low, Tialen wondered how good or how grim their fate would be.

But for him, there was a single light bleeding through the tainted sky, as if a goddess of benevolence had chosen him to touch and bestow bounty upon. He just needed to find her.

_"Promise to find me again in the moons' light?", _those words echoed in his head like the whispering of the wind, rustling through the leaves of the lush forest of Ashenvale, but what did they mean? He pondered this deeply, trying to think if the words stuck in his head could lead him to her, but all he did was make himself more befuddled. Then he stared at the moons. What had she said, before?

_"Only Elune knows of my presence.", _Yes Elune, but who was Elune to them? This was so puzzling, but he knew that he could find some meaning to her words. The way to find her was on the tip of his mind and his tongue.

"Elune, Elune, Elune, Elune,…", he said in repetition, trying to ponder the word, remembering it was a goddess of great importance to them, listening to a particular sound inside the word, and realizing that the way his tongue curved around part of it.

"Elune, Elune, Lune, Lunar!", he'd got it. He remembered, now, Elune was the goddess of the _moon_, which she'd trusted so much. So he looked skyward and, Tialen's eyes met the moons. They seemed _familiar_.He couldn't explain it but something about them reminded him of when he'd met her before, so he followed them.

The lunar pair became his guides. He couldn't explain it, but he trusted them as well. They led him through the dismal hordes of men, which starred at one of their own, running through them staring at the sky like a crazed fool. He made tracks in the soft pathway their lights paved for them, and before he knew it, he came to the forest. He'd always looked on it as alien, a thousand mysteries clouded in a woody veil. The trees, so tall and menacing, had almost rued him, but this time they didn't seem so malevolent. With the moons' hands to escort him he felt a new sense of confidence and direction as he entered the forest. This time the trees were now much more affable and he thought he might have seen them bend a little to show him the correct way. With the respect of the forest and the assistance of the moons he ran through the glades without hesitation.

In less than an hour's time he came to it. Yes he was sure of this was it, a clearing set in the midst of the all the growth. The space seemed just like the space where he'd met her before, but he saw no trace of her. Worst of all he'd never heard her voice when he had approached it. He had to step further into it, but as he did he noticed his foot dig itself into something odd. 

Looking down at his leather boot he realized that the ground was bare in that one spot. It was quite queer sight, indeed. In a forest, where there was nothing but life how possibly could death encroach? A thought then occurred to him. What if she was dead? He remembered now, all the thoughts flooded back to him. The time when he almost had died, and probably should have, he never found her, yet more than ever he had wished to be by her side. She wasn't there now either, and his misery pervaded him more than ever.

"Feorie…", the words were hard to speak, even though he'd relished the chance for them to touch his lips again, "where are you?"

He waited, perfectly still with his hair standing on end, listening for any sounds of movement. Tialen wanted to listen as hard as he could for her. Then, without warning, a purple blur tackled him toppling him over. His head landed with a loud thud as it impacted the grass. It was she! Feorie lay horizontally clutching him tightly as she spoke into his ear.

"By the goddess you're okay. I thought you were gone. I just thought you were...."She stopped in mid sentence, instead just hugging him tighter. Her voice, though burdened ,was sweet to his ear. 

"Feorie I missed you too, but I also can't breath." ,Her grip was so tight that it had become difficult to inhale. Immediately she let go of him and got up, helping him to his feat. Her face became flustered. The reddening lightly freckled lilac cheeks made for a subtle expression of apology. Her arms went behind her back as she kept a small distance, but she still looked at him directly.

"I'm sorry Tialen. I just had to thank you for saving me. I'm also sorry for…this." Her right palm came forward and slapped him. His head snapped in the direction of her swipe and stayed there for a second, startled. A stinging imprint of her hand was felt on his chin when he rubbed the area.

"What was that for?!", he responded startled. 

"_That _was for almost dying.", she said while letting out a small laugh., "Its good to see you again.". 

"Good to see you again… I ugh… think.", In truth he was overjoyed to be with her, even if she had just struck him. Just being there satiated his longing, and his only regret was that he could not embrace her further. As she spoke again his ears perked up to taste her voice. 

"You know Tialen I have something for you.", with that she turned around and walked to a large bush. Her long scintillating hair flowed in the moonlight as she dug in the shrubbery for her "present". Finding the mystery item Feorie stood straight with her arms behind her concealing whatever objects she possessed.

"Now, close you're eyes.", she asked walking toward him. Tialen didn't think she would play such a childish game, but he wasn't too mature himself. With his lids closed shut he felt a smooth conforming object being placed in his hand. It also seemed to be heavy on one end, so he used his other hand to hold it upright. Little intuitiveness was needed to tell what the object was, and he opened his eyes to reveal, to his expectations, a sword! It was not ornate nor did it shine, but he could brandish it with ease.

Feorie stood with a similar sword with one leg forward in a ready stance. She angled hers so that it crossed his blade. From the looks of it she was ready to duel.

"ugh…Feorie?", he said confused.

"I'll explain. I watched you combat those five ghouls and I was pretty impressed. You're a good swordsman but your form is sloppy, so I thought I could help you learn a technique I've been developing.",

" But I don't even have a shield!"

"Oh, don't worry. If you follow my movements you'll learn that you won't need a clumsy hunk of metal to protect you."

"Do you really think you could teach me?"

"Sure, it has only taken me two thousand years to perfect.", This did not convince him, but he passed it off as a jest, "In fact to start you just need to do one thing… parry".

"What?"

"Parry !", she exclaimed excitedly while delivering a powerful side swipe. Out of awkward reflex Tialen barely managed to deflect her blow, and he was also set off balance. Feorie, not holding back at all, used the moment to hit him on his other side. Tialen thought the blade would cut him in two, but surprisingly it only gave him a bruise. It did manage to cause him to buckle.

"Oh I forgot to mention these are practice armaments. They can't cut you, but they do smart.", she was now standing above him pointing her weapon at him victoriously.

"I figured.", he replied while getting up and trying to match her offensive pose. She looked at him almost predatorily, as a cat that was about to pounce upon its prey. Even her glowing emerald eyes widened. They're blunted edges crossed again, and they went at each other.

The night aged and they sparred again and again. Feorie's movements were so sure and controlled she almost seemed like a well-trained ballerina. There was even much grace as she darted about him, effortlessly. Tialen, on the other hand, barely managed to keep up with her, feeling more like a clunky wooden doll. He didn't quit, though, for being challenged by her made him burst at the seems with adrenaline. Once he managed to be able to parry all of her blows he could follow her movements with ease, and every time Feorie defeated him he got back up and asked for more, never giving up.

They had been sparring for four hours now, and he'd learned much of her technique. He'd even begun to follow the rhythm she had sewn into her methods, and together their motions gained smoothness to one another in near perfect synchronous. This time when she tried the combo she'd used on him initially. He matched both moves, and even attempted an over head swipe at her. Feorie practically saw it coming and easily caught it with her blade. 

She now wanted to try something new, so in a counter she spun around, extending her right arm in an offensive move. In response to the block she expected, she stabbed _while_ twirling the blade in a counter-clockwise circle made out by her outstretched arm, in one of the hardest to defend moves she knew. Tialen, barely able to deflect the complex move, parried in a similar manner, twirling his sword in a _clockwise_ motion. He caught her almost at the hilt, leaving the point inches away from his face. 

Realizing that this wouldn't do he tried to force her sword out of her hand, and applied as much pressure to the tiny areas where the edges met. Using force to advance, he, with two arms now, was able to almost free the grip from her hands. Feorie wasn't as weak as he'd thought and once she reinforced her grips with her other hand, they were locked in stalemate. Both of them panted hard in strain as they faced off, using as much power they could. 

Yet, in trying to so hard to defeat each other, they had gotten closer, their faces now inches apart. Learning every one of her moves and being able to adapt to them, made Tialen feel as if he'd known Feorie so much better. Just as a vine curls around all the contortions of a tree, he'd felt as if his understanding of her had grown to accommodate every one of her little niches. He was even able to see some of her flaws and imperfections, but they merely caused him to gain more of an understanding. Through that he saw himself not as a peon in the graces of a demigoddess made incarnate, but the two of them... as equals. At that moment his brute strength failed him and he dropped his sword, yet at the same time she released her grip. The two blades hit the ground producing a sound that could be heard as one, as they clanged against each other. 

He could see her face so close that even the minutest contractions of muscle were distinct and unambiguous. Feorie's breath, so warm and fragrant, traveled down his shirt. The moons, which where closer than he'd ever noticed, brought out all of the effervescence in her, her eyes gaining a soft luminescence. They now spoke words so hush and slow, that even in a place so devoid of interlopers as Ashenvale, they deemed only to be heard between them. 

"You know I never enjoyed violence anyway."

"Me neither Tialen."

"Why do you fight then, if all we are to know is bloodshed?"

"I wish for nothing but peace. That is the only supposed outcome of war. One way or the other. What makes you take up your weapons every day?

"Nothing. I've lost it all."

"You shouldn't do that. The only warriors with nothing in their hearts belong to the Undead."

"Well, there is one thing which is drives me now, but I think it can fend for itself."

In response she only smiled, lightly grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him. They were so close now that he needed only to gingerly touch the small of her back for his lips to caress hers even further. Time seemed to loss its relentless speed when he held her. At that moment, as he closed his eyes, in pure embrace, he realized that her beauty did not lie within the soft features of her face or her perfectly lavender skin. The most gorgeous thing about her, which he saw now in full detail, was her soul.

Opening his eyes he found that he grasped only air. It didn't matter to him, even though she left no trace.

Out of the corner of his right eye he saw something in the distance. Turning towards it he greeted the morning sun, which peeked into the forest, as if he'd seen it for the first time… 

*~*~*

Jeese, that took a long time to write. 

Anyway, even though I'm always pessimistic about my work, I'll let this chapter speak for itself.

I just wanted to say that I'm going to a college prep summer school this Sunday, so I might not update anytime soon. I will attempt to work on it on weekends but these chapters have become so long that I can't do them in one night like I used to. 

Anyway I won't post any segments of the next chapter because that would be evil, me not updating soon and all.

………..

Oh wait I am evil. 

Here goes 

"Jaina thought her eyes could bear nothing but guile, as she came close to him. Reason fell victim to her bottled up desires, which begged emancipation. Unimpeded she pressed her cheek against the smooth breastplate, it being unfamiliar but still enough to soothe the afflictions she'd gain when she was torn away from her quiet school life. In much anticipation she tilted her head back, and wriggled her nose as a cold rush of frosted air tickled her."

insert lame smiley here. 

-Neozero/Art


	14. Chapter 13 Arthas

****

Chapter 13.

__

With the coming of a brand new day, the sun's rays peeked over the horizon to find Jaina. As she washed the tears, from a night of crying, off her face, she greeted the light bathed star alone, just as she had done every day since the accursed war had broke out.

Jaina hadn't seen that face in a long time. To her, looking at an image of herself through the ripples in the stream was like looking to into past. It seemed as if it'd been a lifetime since Jaina had been in the presence of her reflection, yet in her face she saw no age, reminding her how recently she'd lived as gay and carefree as ever. How she wanted to take those days back, to be able to be tucked in by her favorite books, to greet the morning sun from the highest tower in Dalaran, and to once, just once, sneak from her quarters at night to travel to the garden. The Lordareon nights were chilly but in that nocturnal sanctuary she knew she could be comforted by…

Those thoughts were nothing but forsaken memories, which might as well have occurred in ages long past, for they would never be relived. Although she used to look at her reflection and decide which color to splash on her already full lips, she now was merely trying to wash off the tears that seeped from the edges of her eyes. 

It seemed odd for her to want to cleanse her face of the marks, for the still glistening stream of tear seemed to sparkle in the image she saw of herself in the brook. The lonely young mage still yearned to be able to appreciate that… being beautiful. It almost seemed unfair that she was forced out of her cage of superficiality and thrown into a maelstrom of clashing steel.

Her face might as well have been cracked, for it was but a guise that was being split open in her solitude. Who ever, or even whatever, she had turned into was not what was staring back at her, because when she smiled, even if it was convincing enough to bring courage to a thousand of her troops, she knew that it was nothing but a fraud. And she didn't need a mirror to see that...

Convening from her contemplation, she noticed tiny ripples forming at the edges of the small creek. Curious she was, for they seemed to not have a source and they ran the entire length of the vein of water. It seemed that the minute agitations had a distinct beat to them, occurring at such intervals as footsteps. With the next ripples the ground started to vibrate. Tiny rocks and pebbles along the shoreline danced with every beat.

The young mage got off her knees and stood up to observe. In the shady distance of the forest a large indistinct figure could be seen traveling near her. Its pace caused the vibrations which made the ground shiver. Whatever or whoever it was, Jaina could tell that it would soon pervade the sanctuary she'd run off to. 

How unfair that was! Unfair that she could be denied that solitude that was comforting her, and that it could be taken away so easily. She could run away from it, that being the most cowardly action. Not to say that she was inclined to cowardice, but as of late Jaina had no use for bravery. She'd already shown everyone how pathetic she was, running in anguish at the sight of a soldier who was doomed to a fate worse than death. 

Oh how painful those images were to her, still floating at the top of her mind. It wasn't even the horrors of seeing someone so young dying that irked her, it was the faces of her soldiers that scorned her as she fled. Expressions of disgust and disapproval that couldn't be seen through the hair that she had pulled over her eyes, like wool. It was their testimony, never seen but felt, that proved she was a shell of woman, and not worthy of the title of soldier, much less leader. Because of that she turned herself invisible, and pressed herself onto a tree.

Jaina pressed herself so hard against the bark, that she could feel the individual ridges grating against the back of her head. With eyes closed tightly she wished whatever was there to go away. Why wouldn't it? Solitude was all she begged for. Though it sickened her to want to fester in her lonesome, it was the only thing that seemed appealing to her. The other option, to be trapped on the top of the world fighting and endless army with no hope left, was forsaken. After that ordeal she'd lost all will to fight. 

The being was close, so close that the _footsteps _were starting to sound more like hooves. Though her eyelids were sealed tight she could feel her teeth clanging, with the sharp tremor that occurred every time the hard hoof impacted the ground. It was now so close that it felt that it was almost right in front of her. Wait, it was right of her, but now the massive steps ceased. Jaina pulled her cloak tight hoping that the thing couldn't detect her, even if she was invisible. Too petrified to even sneak away, she had to pull out her last option. She opened her eyes to see…

Cairne! The aged Tauren now appeared before her, oblivious to the cloaked mage's presence. He sat there, drinking from a bladder the size of her entire body. Although the chieftain was usually very docile, he now seemed as if he was pursuing something. Even with his head tilted back, to empty its contents into his mouth, his ears perked up to hear any sounds. When he lowered the sack, he surveyed all around him.

"Ugh, where is that girl", he muttered to himself in deep concern. "Too much stress has been placed on this old one today."

Hearing him say that made her realize that he possibly was looking for her, and that made her stomach turn in guilt. When she'd first seen Taurens Jaina thought them to be almost frightening and intimidating. The massive half-bovine's appearance was startling and their towering mass humbled her, but she learned they were very compassionate creatures. Though gruff the tribes had a deep love for their homeland. Cairne was the warmest of all. Though she had never truly known him, just being near him made her feel uplifted. Even during the combat she so hatred, seeing him swing his gargantuan poleax gave her increased vigor. Never once had she seen him so frustrated, and here she was cowering from him. She hated herself for that, and the only way to be redeemed was to reveal herself.

Being visible again made her feel exposed, but upon seeing her emerge from the shadows, Cairne showed nothing but alleviation. She was real reluctant to show herself, revealing her deception, but Cairne's expression of relief was like a salve. He addressed her, his voice soothing but still with some hint of being troubled,

" By the earth mother. Jaina! We've been so worried. You must come back to us, the alliance needs you more than ever."

"I'm sorry Cairne, but I just can't.", she replied with her head down. Jaina was still so very shamed.

" I know of your misery, Jaina. Its been heard throughout our ranks", Great, she thought. Everyone knew how weak she was "but many are in great despair, especially your own men."

"Why? They saw what a fool I was. I don't deserve to be their leader."

He spoke now much more slowly and caring,

"Jaina, does that one incident truly remove your responsibilities or is it something more?." 

The voice of the Chieftain was so consoling that she didn't want to keep her true feelings under layers anymore. She lifted her head to see him smiling. It was a grin that only Taurens could do. The lower corners of his eyes lifted, while his ears moved upward a little, and it made her want to be honest again. 

"You're right, Cairne. It wasn't what happened. I…I can't stand anything about this war. I've _killed_. I can barely sleep knowing how much blood is on my hands, but I am not disturbed by all of the enemies I've slain, instead my demons come from the demise of my people. They followed me, and for what, death? Dying is one thing, but living with the its mark is like having a brand that never stops burning." Minute tears began forming at the edge of her eyes, but Jaina had spent too much time crying, so she wiped them off and held them back, "I'm sorry that for what I did, but so much of the turmoil was rotting inside me. Every time I saw a corpse, staring glossily to the sky, it ripped apart my insides. Eventually I collapse. That's why I'm not fit to lead anybody. I'm broken."

Cairne did nothing but nod, "You seem to carry a lot of weight on your shoulders."

"It just seems that whenever one of my men must die … it is because of me."

" So do you fight for them, for your men. Do you think of them whenever you vanquish another foe?"

"Not really. They give me strength, but they aren't my reason. When I'm in the thicket of battle, killing for what sometimes seems like no reason. I'm encased by solitude"

"Then why do you carry their woe?"

" I don't know. So many of them look up to me, that I just feel I should."

"What do you think makes for a might warrior? In fact what kind of qualities do you think the mightiest Tauren had?" The wise old Tauren made himself comfortable, placing his poleax on a tree and one hand on his knee 

"Strength, skill, endurance, or along that line I would think."

He merely shook her head. "Jaina, the most revered Tauren wasn't very big, fast or strong. Come to think it, he was a very old warrior, much past his time, but he would never part his totem. Every day he fought, even when facing a horizon filled with centaur raiders, he held up the flag of his tribe and yelled a grand huzzah. Even when he had been so weathered that his totem and Poleax felt a hundred times heavier, he continued, sometimes fighting with his bare hands, until one day he got his wish. Right before he died, he was asked why he had never quit, even though he was long past his prime, and he only said one this… ", 

Cairne gave a short pause before continuing 

"he said that he loved his son. I would know, I asked him. He was the Chieftain before me, and my favorite mentor. You see Jaina he was so strong because he fought for something dear to him, and only to him, for no warrior can bear the woe of tens of thousands of men. They must fight for only one thing, even if it just for themselves. "

"Are you saying that I don't fight for the right reasons?"

"I'm saying you haven't found them yet."

"How can I find them?"

" Heh heh. You're so young Jaina. These things aren't meant to be found, they just come in time. Now do you think you can return, you won't even have to fight?"

"You know what Cairne. I think I can."

"Spoken like a true leader."

With that she let the chieftain show her the way back. She hadn't realized just how far she had wandered away from the base until she retraced her steps. She and the Chieftain spent the majority of their trek back in silence. He was a very quiet one and Jaina was in deep thought of what he'd told her. She believed, realizing that her reasons for battle were quite hollow. Could she be a warrior, and furthermore did she even want to? She remembered that whenever she'd spoke to one of her men, even the lowliest, they always had a story. Be it revenge, peace, or even to taste their mom's blueberry pie, they had something, but She was a pampered student. With her past so far away she was alone, just as alone as she was on the battlefield. It seemed now that the only thing Jaina could confide in was in her back pocket.

And it was very warm…

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SMACK! 

Tyrande hit the prisoner with as much force she could muster, and more. She wanted him to feel the pain of every one of her sister's he and the scourge had murdered. Before her hung, in chains, the tattered body of the forsaken human they'd captured as a POW. The man had been stripped of his armor and was suspended in shackles. His skin, free of all color, and limpness made him look as a corpse, and, although deep bruises appeared on his skin, he showed no sign of pain. 

Tyrande almost seemed displeased at his lack of response. She curled the ends of her lips in frustration, and leaned closer to his ear.

While trying to hide her grief, she spoke sternly, but little pockets of anger erupted in her voice.

" Up until now you haven't seen me mad, but if you don't talk I'll make you feel real pain again."

In response he barely moved, instead he merely slid his sly tongue to respond.

" Come closer and maybe I'll speak." 

Cautiously she moved her head right beside his.

Again he whispered, much softer now,

"Closer still." 

She inched her self so close him that she could feel his cold breath run down her long Elven ears. Almost pressing her lips against his ragged ears, she gave him an ultimatum

"This is your last chance. Tell me what I want to hear".

He gave her a wicked smile," Okay then…. You're all going to die!" With that said, he turned his head and spat into her ear.

Tyrande was aghast at what he had done! In disgust she reared away from him, and tried to wipe away the saliva traveling around her neck. She unleashed her hatred for him and became feral. Starring at him with widened pupils, like a tiger about to make its kill, she snapped her arm back, and clenched a fist so hard her nails dug into her hand. 

"Tyrande no!"

Before she could strike him, Furion intervened and grabbed her wrists. He and Thrall, who had been watching the priestess interrogate her Undead prisoner, stepped in front to prevent her from attacking him further. 

Wrenching her hand free of her lover, she looked more irked than before. At the same time Tyrande seemed confused. She attempted to speak words of scorn, but to her love? The nasty tasting scolds got caught at in her throat, and she merely paused, unable to say anything. For a time an awkward silence came between them, and they just stared at each other trying to discern what to do.

That peace soon was encroached on by an insidious cackle. Though it came from their decrepit prisoner, it pierced the entire room.

"hehehehe. Even now you bicker. Ha! No wonder you fought so foolhardily. It won't be long before--"

"Before what?", To everyone's surprise Jaina, followed by Cairne, entered the small Night Elf Cell where they kept the imprisoned death knight. Despite her previous incident she stood tall and spoke with presence that before was unbeknownst to the Archmage, as she advanced on the prisoner. "Before we vanquish you, and reclaim _our_ lands? Before the scourge is purged?."

Jaina now stood in front of the chained Death Knight while the others stepped aside. They were pleased that she had returned okay, but the leaders did not want to get in her way. She was being aggressive, and that was something she'd never done before. 

The Death knight too seemed startled at her arrival, but not in the same way they were. For the first time he pulled his head up and shook his hair out of his face to reveal a blank expression, but it only lasted a second. With his face in full view, he seemed more sinister than ever.

Their eyes locked in a cold stare, almost a duel of silence. Each one of them not daring to bare a single hint of moving the expression chiseled on their faces. The charade lasted an uncountable number of minutes, until it was broken by the Death Knights defiant cackle.

" He he. You actually think your tough." He licked his lips as he laughed malevolently at her. 

Jaina noticed that the muscles in his right arm were tightening. A small chink was heard from of the links in his chain, and in a display of strength he pulled so hard that the link warped to the point of sheering off. His right arm became free! 

Before she could do anything he enveloped her in his free arm, forcing his mass upon her as they went down. In a flash she was pinned, breathing in the awful stench of his Undead breath. 

" But you're more vulnerable than you think." She only saw his evil smile as he pressed himself hard onto her.

In immediate response to the commotion they heard inside the cell, two burly Orc Guards rushed him. Their massive dual hands grabbed a chunk of his flesh and slammed him against the hard stone wall. He laughed at this treatment, as if he got some sort of sadomasochistic pleasure from it.

"Enough", Spat Tyrande. She stepped forward to point an accusing finger at the man the Orc Guards were subduing, " This interrogation is over. You've been given more mercy than you deserve, and tomorrow the Wardens decide what to do with you." 

It was quite obvious she was holding back the urge to kill him right there, and Furion placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her. He still looked at the others as he spoke.

" Yes this miscreant has caused enough trouble. For now let us attend to our own matters" When he uttered his last sentence his voice became concerned and he looked slightly at Tyrande.

Despite this everyone understood his statement, and they left in a terse manner. Crudely nailing the remains of his chain to the stone wall of the cell, it didn't take long for the Orcs to restrain the prisoner. It didn't matter that he was poorly confined, the Wardens that made regular Patrols through the POW cells would do far worse things to him, than they would, if he tried to escape. 

One of them was even kind enough to help Jaina to her feet, and she gave him a polite thank you. The mage was a little shaken by what he did to her, but after going through last night she was a lot stronger person. That pitiful forsaken knight was just trying to scare her, but his desperate attempts were futile. Nothing could faze her now, nothing…

Or so she thought.

Right before her hand grasped the barred cell door she heard a click. Echoing inside the now empty cell and down the corridor, it seemed all too familiar. In fact it sounded more like a clasp being unhinged. She turned around, every step hoping that that sound wasn't what she thought it was

Seeing her precious object, gleaming in the tiny sliver of light let in through the small window of the prison, Jaina had her fears affirmed. The Death Knight was holding the silver case she cared so much for, and he had it opened! If it wasn't enough for him to steal something from her, but he had to defile it as well. It was only meant to be seen by her and…

Again he smiled wickedly as he played with it. 

"You know you never told me your name…Jaina!", whilst saying that he turned the silver packet around to finally show her what was inside.

It was a delicate glass rectangle that had an ornate image of Jaina and her old love engraved on it. Just the sight of it made her reminisce of the times she'd just sworn never to relive. The piece wasn't even that expensive, costing only a couple gold pieces when they bought it off a street artisan. Every time she gazed at the beautifully crafted lines and stained in color she could escape her turmoil, and be free. Inside that case was the one thing she'd always swore to keep close, and now that vile disgrace of a man had it.

Losing all reason she charged at him reaching to snatch it away, but before she got close she saw him squeeze until a small crack formed on the top, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"I see you want this. ", He said deceitfully.

" What do you want from me?" Jaina said through clenched teeth."

"You assume to much Jaina. You think a fallen man has aspirations. You don't see that it is you that has desire." He gripped harder, and Jaina winced as the crack traveled further down the surface of her memory. "You want him, don't you? Well if you want him take him. Run to him. I can hear him calling for you… and so can you."

Confused and angered Jaina let out a stifled shout, " What do you mean? How could a person like you know anything about me? About who you _think _you're talking about?"

" Foolish girl. You shouldn't be asking me those questions…oops" At the sound of his least word he intentionally dropped the glass piece, knowing it would break on impact, but Jaina couldn't let that happen. 

In desperation she dove, catching her crystalline memory in her fingertips, and brought it to her Bosom. Smothering herself over it, as if holding a lame child, Jaina looked as if she was cowering to him, but that didn't matter to her. As long as she had it she thought she was safe, impugn to the harshness of reality. The young mage felt so protected while holding it to her that she didn't bother to count how much time she'd spent still in the cell, nor did it matter to her…

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When she finally got the nerve to leave, Jaina didn't bother heading towards daylight. No, she had a task that was not to be seen by anybody. Kneeling at the feet of that Death Knight, clutching her silver prize so close to her heart, she had came to a realization. Even though she looked to be prostrating to him, Jaina was merely coming to a true comprehension of herself.

Up until now she'd only fled from her problems, running from her own feelings until they erupted in her face, like they did last night, but she couldn't continue doing that. As much as she wished she could be rid of them she could not. No, she was human, and no matter she tried to shove it down inside, it would always come bubbling back. 

Her heart spoke, nay it cried out from within. Since the beginning of the war it had always hailed, but she'd never listened, instead chaining it down until its shouts withered away into whispers. But now, as feeble as its bawls had become, it still spoke the truth. What was secretly on the back of her mind during every battle she fought, but could never be told, even to her self. 

She could feel it, feel him. Even in the most remote niche, of that Dank Night Elf prison, he was so close. Now, surrounded by walls, unable to feel the light gleam on her skin, she felt as though she could reach out and have him be there, but her hands grasped only moist warm air.

"Well I won't be so far away from you for long.", she whispered in preparation for what she was about to do.

It was a spell she'd never done or learned, one of her own incantations. She concentrated, trying hard to free her mind from all of the physical constraints surrounding it. Closing her eyes she saw not matter, but the spectral energies that began to engulfed her. Uttering not a word she channeled them, becoming a well for the ethereal forces that spread throughout the farthest reaches of the universes. Her finger tips began to twitch when tiny spikes of energy flew of them, feeling like pinpricks. Slowly, using all of her will, she focused all of the power gathered within her, between her cupped hands, but the more she concentrated the forces, the more violent they became.   
`Trying to control the unruly ball, fighting in her hands, was like trying to wrestle a baby dragon. The longer she held on to it, the more erratic it became, but she'd almost had enough. She continued to summon more energy, until lightning bolts spurted out from it. The streaks of white energy made short gushes, and caused tiny pebble to break off the walls when they hit them. Now she had gathered enough. Any more and the ball might become too volatile. Fighting, using all of her effort to contain it, Jaina uttered the spell.

It sounded a simple transportation spell. The arcane words were similar to those she'd used many times, except for small differences only detectable by a trained ear. Of course in the word of magic, minute changes can have huge affects, for this was no transportation spell. Upon completion of the enchantment, the rune disc appeared before her. Luminescent ancient symbols, of a language never known to mortal man, swirled around in a mystic halo. 

With the ritual almost complete, Jaina had only one thing left to do. She thrust the orb into the rune disc.

The entire phenomenon glowed so bright she had to turn away, and take cover. The dark cavern suddenly became swamped in light. Vibrations, so big that large pieces of ceiling began to crumble out. Surely, even in that deep part of the prison someone would notice, but it wouldn't matter to her. In a short amount of time, the discharge of energy passed. 

Shaken, Jaina forced herself to get up and look at what she'd done. She'd proven her mastery of the arts of sorcery, for before her floated a perfect portal. A round ring of energy surrounded a vortex. Though it seemed docile, not consuming any of the area around it, it still ripped apart the very fabric of space-time. Through it could been seen unimaginable chaos. Swirling lights and waves of pure energy danced within the bright circle. It seemed so torrential within the circle, but Jaina trusted her abilities. She'd invented spells before, none of this magnitude, but all of her studies had never failed her. Furthermore she trusted what would be on the other side.

Holding her silver memory close to her heart, Jaina stepped through the portal.

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Emerging from the other side felt like waking from a deep slumber, yet she collapsed, . Even though Jaina had been catapulted across the pandemonium effortlessly, the journey was very taxing. Her whole body shook, and she practically had to chock down air. Writhing on the palace floor, eyes closed, Jaina could do nothing but ruminate of the dream she entered, and the dissonance she'd fled from.

But as she lifted her eyelids, the world around her seemed like a wonderful tainted dream….

It was the Lordareon throne room, and she was right in the center of it. Around her soared humbling gothic arches, and ornately engraved balconies, where dignitaries used to debate. All of the glory and splendor of The former Kingdom was imprinted on her by the finely engraved art on columns that seemed to soar above her, yet all was not well.

It was crumbling, much of the inner structure bore cracks, that seemed to betray its picturesque likeness. Tiny spots of light crept in through the ceiling, interrupting the rhythm given by the candles that used to surround ceiling. While some semblance of the pride of Lordareon remained, much had been pervaded by death. 

" Why has it been so long…Jaina", spoke a voice that could do nothing but grab her ears. A voice that was all too familiar, yet strangely cold…

And so she turned, relishing every second as if turning a page from one of her favorite romances. With her revolution, she could only anticipate who would lay before her, and in that small time her imagination ran wild. She imagined her prince, now a King searching for his lost beloved. His robe would be covered in the rose petals of his welcoming subjects, and as he approached, a velvet tapestry, beautifully embroidered, would lead them to each other. Every thing about who she would embrace would be perfect, and she _knew _it. It would be such that when she would bury herself in his arms, the two would petrify, frozen forever so that not even time itself could deny what they had. 

And with the last seconds drifting off into nonentity she looked into the figure waiting for her and watch as her thoughts took shape. 

At first he was nothing but a silhouette, and a form of pure darkness but contrasted by the light that fled into the room with him. Approaching further, with the shade pulling its veil to reveal her Prince, Jaina saw the man she longed for, but not the man she remembered. 

His hair had not its former vibrancy, but instead hung dead in silvery tufts that shadowed his face. She could see no long deep blue cape waving in the breeze as he approached, for only a tattered cloth was affixed to his unfamiliar armor. Even his walk was empty of all the pride of a server of the light. Though he came to her in a fully erect posture, his pace was slow and methodic as the tolling of an Iron bell.

It didn't matter to her though, for Jaina thought her eyes could bear nothing but guile, as she came close to him. Reason fell victim to her bottled up desires, which begged emancipation. Unimpeded she pressed her cheek against the smooth breastplate, it being unfamiliar but still enough to soothe the afflictions she'd gain when she was torn away from her quiet school life. In much anticipation she tilted her head back, and wriggled her nose as a cold rush of frosted air tickled her, but she still could barely see his face. The candles in the throne room were long burnt out and it was very dim, so she smothered her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

With tear flowing down her cheeks again she whispered to him,"

"Arthas, I've fought too many battles, killed too many beings, and witnessed the deaths of too many honest good people alone, and the only thing that could keep me steadfast during that endless maelstrom of suffering was the thought I would someday see you again."

Standing completely statuesque his response rolled down the nape of her neck. 

"Yet, my Jaina, you've come all too soon.", his left hand crept along the rim of her lower back, and followed her spine, "You see you love me, do you not?"

"I'll always love you."

"Well for that, I am sorry."

"Arthas? Are you…"

Jaina swallowed the question she was going to ask him, and instead satisfied her curiosity by lifting his concealing her from his face, and exposed the visage that he had been keeping in shadow. 

What Jaina found beneath the gray hair was not the face of her former lover. Or at least it used to be. 

It resembled him. He resembled him, but never before had she him wear that face. It was far from the compassionate expressions Arthas put on for his people, his calling, and for her. No, she looked into the visage of someone wicked, a person that now tightly stretched the edges of his mouth to reveal a wicked smile. 

At that moment came to her something she wished she were too oblivious to know. He had ceased to be Arthas, instead someone sinister had replaced him, but she still couldn't believe it. As much she knew it to be true, she would not accept the truth. Yet she did know one thing.She could not love him, and because of that she had to run away.

But she went nowhere, for the hand that she thought was caressing her, was now enclosed around Jaina's neck, and tightening. Her feet began to feel air, and she had to hold onto his thick arm to keep from choking. Trying to kick her self free, all to no avail, Jaina stared into his eyes. They had no remorse, no empathy, and no fear, instead they seemed to beckon out her soul so they could devour it, and they were pasted above that evil smile.

"Arthas you're hurting m…" his hand was so constricting she could not bring forth enough air to speak words.

" Do you know why you should really be afraid Jaina?"

At that moment she noticed, with fading consciousness, a third player appear on stage. But it was not an actor, no it was a prop, for in his right hand glowed a sword. This weapon, though, was unlike any other she'd seen or even felt. It was almost as perverse as he'd become, and it even seemed to be more damning. He clutched it, as his new love, and pointed it at her bellybutton. Its luminescence did not diffuse out light. Instead it consumed it. 

"Because I'm not going to kill you."

With that, that accursed blade grabbed her, forcing a surge of dark engery into her body.

And Jaina never thought it possible to feel so much pain…

****

End Chap 13?


End file.
